Cherished Memories of Old Lancaster--town and Shire

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WILLIAM MDDLE, AT AGE 17

Cherished Memories

OF

OLD LANCASTEBr-TOWN
AND SHIRE

William Riddle

Author of ''Nicholas Coiobntdb," "One Hundrbd

AND Fifty Ysabs of School Hibtobt," and

"Tributb to Old Lancastbr."

LAN0A8TER. PA.
INTELUQSNCER PRINTING HOUSE

1010

> To

•f
>

^^^ GEORGE STEINMAN,

WhOSB devotion to THB HI8TORT OF ToWN AND COUNTT, AS

Prssident or the Lancastbr Countt Historical Socnmr,

HAS endeared his NAME FOR SO MANY TEARS TO ITS
MEMBERS, THESE FEW " CRUMBS SWEPT UP'' ALONG
THE BYWAYS OF OlD LANCASTER'S NINE HUN-
dred square miles, are affection-
ately dedicated by the

Author.

Ill

CONTENTS

PAOB

I. Introductory 1

II. Childhood Days — ^We Remove to Leesburg, Vir-
ginia — ^Easter and Christmas in the Sunny
South 14

III. Back to Lancaster — First Locomotive — School

Days — ^Andy Blue 31

IV. Lancaster in the 40*8— Harry Stiff— Oharlie

Buckram — ^Johnny Elliott 41

V. The State Railroad in the BO'S— Grubey Sam-
Johnny Wilhelm, the Old Engineer, and Son
CharUe 68

VI. Rafting on the Susquehanna — I^ancaster^s
Growth — Congestion in Central Part — ^Its
Mayors 76

Vn. Installation of the Water Works— President Tay-
lor in Lancaster 90

Vin. Church Buildings Rebuilt— €heck Books— A

Good Sister 102

IX. Getting Employment — A Coimtry Fair in the
60's— Steffy— "Toodler"— Jake Parks— Hiram
Kroom 114

X. Leave Lancaster for Paradise — Experiences en

Route 127

XI. Held up by Tramps — ^A Garrulous Gate-keeper —

The Amish Schoolhouse 137

XII. Arrival at Paradise — ^My Rrst Shave — ^A Trial at

Farm Laboring 147

Xm. I Become a Machinist's Apprentice — ^An Amish

Love Feast 160

XIV. The Campaign of '66— Fox Hunting— A Judge's

Turkeys 160

V

Chaftbb Paob

XV. Examined by County Superintendent Cnimbaugh

—My Piret School 177

XVI. Intercourse in the 60*8 — ^Hickory Grove School —

Menno Mengen 186

XVn. Menno's Story of His Courtship and Honeymoon
Trip to New York — ^Innovations in Farming
Methods and Machinery 197

XVIII. A Country Sale — ^Tendency to Extravagant Puiv

chases 216

XIX. Sexton Hammerpue — ^The Story of Jinmiy Mo-

Guire — ^Patershine Trades Horses 225

XX. A Kicking Aldemey — Squire Dugan Victimized. 236

XXI. The German SetUer and British Redemptioner —

An Undc's Cruelty 263

XXn. A Letter to Charlie, by Old Time Cronie— Fresh

Recollections by "BiUie" 263

XXm. A Tramp Througji the "Up" Country— Schoen-

eck — ^Ephrata — New Holland — Christiana. . . . 273

XXTV. Back Once More to Fairview — ^My First Bank

Account 285

XXV. Nomination of Abraham Lincoln — "Wide-

Awakes" 300

XXVI. Letter to Menno Mengen — ^Farming Conditions of

Two Sections Contrasted 311

XXVII. Return Tramp Up the Susquehanna — The Haunt-
ed Inn— Closing Thou^ts 325

VI

ILLUSTRATIONS

Oppoams Paok
WiLLZAif Riddle, Age 17 (FrorUiapiece)

Abe Miller 10

William Riddle, Age 73 14

Thrkk in One 18

The Old Court House 40

"Harry Stiff" 44

Johnny Elliott 46

"Pappy" Strousb 54

Tommy Hannigan 56

North Queen Street in the 40's 62

"Grubey" Sam 64

Wright's Home at Columbia 76

Programme for President Taylor's Reception 94

"Steffy" 116

"Toddler" Richardson 118

Jake Pares 120

HntAM Kroom 122

Blind Johnny 124

Bakkr Young 126

Mammy Staines 128

Amish School 142

Oak Hill 148

Strasburg — ^My First School 182

A Mxnnonite Maid 198

Mengen's Double Decker 232

The Present Day Beckie 254

Familiar Holiday Visitors 270

Bleak House 282

House at Fairview 284

Hxnsel Homestead at Quarryvillb 308

Fui/ton House, Birthplace of Robt. Fui/ton 314

vn

Cherished Memories

PART I.

CHAPTER I.
Introductoky.

"True friendships! How oft the thought
Wakes up old memories that have slept,
And echoes in the dusty cells,

Where, locked securely, they were kept."

rriRUE friendships! Cherished memories I As these
JL lines, so full of inspiration, pass and repass before
the vision, not unlike a series of moving pictures on the
canvas in the arcade, I am brought to a full realiza-
tion, on this my seventy-third birthday anniversary,
of the many eventful episodes that have come and
gone during the past seven or more decades. And
as I sit in the quietude of the home-nursery, on this
the sixteenth of glorious old February, I am started
unconsciously into reminiscing over a somewhat
varied career for which, if marked by no brilliant
achievement in the narrow sphere in which I have
moved, there have been few regrets.

Having given myself up to reverie, it is astonishing
how many incidents come trooping before the mind's
eye, not unlike a dusty, old volume that has been
embalmed and suddenly illuminated by the sun-

1

2 Cherished Memories.

shine of the hour. If, under the pressure of these by-
gone events, I feel a shadow gathering around me on
this crisp February morning, it is because I see so
many broad gaps in the circle of old friends, who
have passed to the spirit land. In these seventy years
I have seen two great processions: one coming on the
stage to play its brief part, the other passing silently
away. In the former I see the faces of those with
whom I had played around the Lime Street Bridge
in the days of the long ago; in the latter, old friends
and comrades who, like myself, are listening to the
rustle of the autumn leaves waiting for the winter time.
And it is in the fact that I am so surrounded with a
family of young, loving hearts, that gives strength
and lends fresh warmth to a young-old man's heart.
But I do not deem it necessary to be reminiscent in
drifting into a melancholy mood on a birthday anni-
versary morning. And so, in the lines of America's
sweetest poet, I would say:

"What then? Shall we sit idly down and say:
'The night has come, it is no longer day?'
The night hath not yet come; we are not quite
Cut off from labor by the failing light."

Taking renewed hope from the foregoing, I am im-
pelled by an irresistible impulse to open up the store-
house of memory, crowded as it has become with
adventures we wouldn't forget if we could, and couldn't
if we would. Thus to begin the narrative, we have no
apology to make should it eventually find its way on
the turbulent sea of a capricious public sentiment.

That I was bom on the sixteenth of February, 1837,

Glad Pm a Pennsylvanian. 3

in this goodly town of Lancaster, Pennsylvania, found-
ed by the illustrious Penn, in 1682, I have never had
cause to regret; on the contrary, to be able to claim
Lancaster County as my birthplace, has ever carried
with it a feeling for which there are no words adequate
to express the love I have ever had for this "garden-
spot of America."

Taking into consideration my advanced age, which
I make no effort to conceal on a birthday anniversary,
I am not unconscious of the fact that, while this once
good old Quaker and I bare the same Christian name,
there is yet a wide gap in the dates of our birth.
Apart from this difference in age, no blood relation is
claimed on the part of either myself or my ancestors.
To avoid any misunderstanding on this point, it needs
only be said, I am of Grerman descent, which, in itself,
should set at rest any desire on my part to ingratiate
myself into the good favor of the "Friends" of the
"Lower End" of this "Paradise of Nature," of more
than nine hundred square miles, extending westward
from the Octoraro to the Susquehanna, and from
"My Maryland" to the South Mountains on the north.

Having satisfied the Quakers that this volume is
not being written as a bid for votes, there are a few
others of the county's diversified nationalities to be
reconciled as to who I am, and what my purpose is
in throwing wide open the storehouse of memory at
an age when most other men have fallen into their
dotage.

Unlike so many I have known in years gone by,
I have never wasted any of my valuable time in

4 Cherished Memories.

traveling the country over in search of my ancestors
only to awaken to the deplorable fact that, instead
of their being Revolutionary patriots or descendants
of the Pilgrim Fathers, they were either Hessians or
Tories.

Being a native-bom citizen of the Commonwealth
of Pennsylvania, it may be a heartless admission to
declare publicly that I have ever been too thankful
in not having had too many distant relations from
whom to expect a fortune, with others hanging 'round
ready to make merry over what might eventually fall
into their hands in reaping where they hadn't sown.

Fortunately as it happened, those I couldn't well
overlook have at least managed to keep themselves
out of endless litigation; for which I have always
been only too thankful. Overlooking the expense of
the trip, I have never visited the Fatherland to re-
turn perchance with a ship load of poor relations
instead of a legacy. In this I have profited by the
experience of others who, in crossing the ocean's
breadth, have usually returned wiser if not happier.

To my way of thinking, the best heritage that can
be left any boy is, two strong arms and a willingness
to use them at honest labor with a desire to add some-
thing to the sum of human knowledge; and later, at
the close of a long life, to be able to say, ''I have done
some things."

And now, since I've started to throw open the
storehouse of memory on a birthday anniversary, to
say that I came from honorable parentage on both
my mother's and father's side should be enough to

Hustling for Oneself. 5

satisfy the average reader. How many well-to-do
brothers, sisters, uncles and aunts they may have
failed to bring with them has never given me the
slightest concern. Nor have I at any time been
anxious to learn their status, except to wish them all
a long and happy life with plenty of anniversary
"goodies" to make merry over; such as I am looking
forward to receiving before the day draws to a close.

Speaking for myself only, I have at all times been
only too thankful in feeling I was bom under a lucky
star, in that I was compelled to hustle for a living
from the cradle up, instead of hanging 'round await-
ing a fortune to be squandered perchance before
reaching the years of discretion. In the gathering of
the little in my possession, the anticipation has always
been greater than the thought of the labor involved.
In this the impression is in no way intended to be con-
veyed that a legacy is to be despised, provided it is
used as a means of making the world wiser and hap-
pier.

Having gone thus far in the way of introducing my-
self to the critical reader on the anniversary of my
seventy-third birthday, considering my youth, I am
disposed to go a step further by declaring I've never
believed in the adage which advises a young man to
become an old man early if he wishes to be an old
man long. Rather would I be an old man for a short
length of time than to become an ol(^ man before I
was one. Of middle-age, old, young men the world
has already more than an ample sufficiency. They
are to be found here, there and everywhere, ready to

6 Cherished Memories.

give up the battle of life at fifty, while others are
moving smilingly along at eighty, happy in having
won the good fight without a fortune awaiting them
at their birth.

''The harvest of old age," as set forth by one of the
wisest of the world's philosophers, "is the recollection
and abundance of blessings previously secured; riches
that may be spent prudently; honors that may be
courted without self-flattery or personal egotism;
pleasures that may be enjoyed within reason, and
last but not least, good health wherewith to perform
the functions of the body." Add to these, one other,
''character." And here let the boys of Lancaster
copy the following, frame it, and hang it over the
doors of their rooms to be repeated daily: "When
wealth is lost, something is lost; when health is lost,
something more is lost, but when character is lost,
all is lost." If, in the foregoing, I have indulged
myself in a few common-place trites on a birthday
anniversary, as a lesson not at all times profited by
the autobiographer, this is a privilege we feel sure
will be accorded to one of my time of life.

Drawing again on the storehouse of memory, what
a flood of reminiscences loom up, recalling scores of
friends long since passed from life's busy stage I
Friends! Let this word sink deep into the hearts of
the young; they are of all earthly things first to be
sought; always present, shut out of no place; never
out of season; never forgetful of one's wants in time
of distress, unless we of our own volition prove our-
selves unworthy. Cling, then, religiously to your

Early Formed Friendships, 7

youthful companions, my boys, and when they are
no more, revere their memories as of more value than
all the riches of the Indies. Other new-made friends
may turn you the cold shoulder, but the friendships
formed in early life will ever linger as fresh and green
in memory as the thoughts of a mother's love. Yea,
the few yet living, as old age comes on, will cling to
you like the trailing arbutus to its native heath. In
time, you will begin to wonder how they have dwindled
to so few in number, leaving you either to become a
recluse or to seek new friendships. This may be a
little difficult for the pessimistic '*old fellow," but for
the man or woman with whom age don't count, it's
the secret of a long, happy life. '*He who looks upon
a true friend," runs another axiom, '* looks as it were
upon a kind of image of himself."

In this degenerate age, how happily were all, old
and young, to act in accordance with the following:

"There's a maxim that all should be willing to mind;
'Tis an old one, a kind one, and as true as 'tis kind;
'Tis worthy of notice wherever you roam,
And no worse for the heart if remembered at home:
If scandal or censure be raised 'gainst a friend,
Be the last to believe it — the first to defend I
Say, to-morrow will come — and then time will unfold,
That one story's good, till another is told."

For quiet, peaceful reading, remember ''There's a
definite career in life, and to each epoch its own peculiar
period has been assigned so that, in the feebleness of
childhood, in the stateliness of fixed manhood, as well
as in the maturity of old age, each has something

8 Cherished Memories.

natural which should be enjoyed in its own way and
time."

In thus rambling 'round in my endeavor to catch
the thread of the narrative so soon to follow, I am
making no ignoble confession in declaring the date
of my birth. Unlike so many of my bachelor acquaint-
ances, I have never kept the old family Bible hidden
away in some secluded nook, out of reach of the more
inquisitive, only to have my age appear later in the
obituary column of the daily newspaper. For after
all what matters it: a man is just as old as he feels;
a woman, as she looks. And God bless the aged wo-
men! With them there are scores of ways of robbing
old age of its terrors: pleasing associations, a happy,
contented disposition, a smiling countenance; added
to these womanly virtues, dress becoming maturity,
a willingness to give a little of one's surplus wealth
to the poor and needy, and we have even at ninety
a most lovable personage, ever to be admired, always
to be respected, especially if she happen to be an old
grandmother. And since we come to think it over,
what would home be anyway without a cheerful old
grandmother to attend to the wants of the grand-
children!

Oh, yes! the old grand-pap may be tolerated as so
much household rubbish, but the dear old grand-
mother! Let then the old throw off the mask of de-
ception, and on each birthday anniversary call for
congratulations; these will be showered without stint,
and the nearer the century mark, the more hearty
will be the felicitations.

Notables Bom in February, 9

Be my own gait a little slow, the hair as white as
snow, the twinkle of my eye, as I take the youngest
on my knee, has lost none of its former brightness.
The old heart in my bosom beats with the same ten-
derness for childhood as in the days of the long ago
when, as a teacher on the ''hill," I sported with the
lads on the playground, only to gather them 'round
me in the school room there to instill into their young
minds such precepts as a future life of usefulness might
require. If then, a jolly young pedagogue was I, to
become less than a jolly old father at my three-score
and ten, would be to confess that age has made me a
pretty old man I

Still searching here and there for a suitable beginning
for the narrative, I can rejoice with others bom in
the goodly month of February of whatever year that
this, the shortest month of the twelve, has earned
for itself the proud distinction of having sent into the
world a Lowell, Longfellow, Mendelssohn, Galileo,
Dickens, Handel, Wagner, Edison and others too nu-
merous to mention. Coming to those of national repu-
tation, we find William Henry Harrison, bom on the
ninth; with that of the illustrious Abraham Lincoln,
on the twelfth, to be followed by George Washington,
the father of his country, on the twenty-second of
this historic month of glorious old February. Surely
then, one who makes no claim to greatness, has some-
thing for which to be thankful to be able to say he
was thrown into such good company.

Of the number of patriotic Americans who could
point with becoming pride to 1837, as the year of

10 Cherished Memories,

his birth, among the last, with name embahned in
the hearts of his countrymen, was Grover Cleveland,
twice elected president by a Uberty-loving people,
whom he so patriotically served.

Another moment with this winter month, known
as the shortest of the calendar year. It stands pre-
eminently first, owing largely to the many Scriptural
and secular observances for which it has ever stood
conspicuous in the world's history. Thus, with the
passing of January comes Candlemas, the festival of
the Purification; and the announcement of the Ground-
hog, the Weather Bureau's rival, that he is abroad in
the land; at times to stay, at others that, having seen
his shadow, has gone back to his snug winter quarters
there to enjoy another six weeks of his Rip Van Winkle
sleep, much to the disappointment of the young girls
who, with their many sizes and shapes of spring hats,
had been looking forward to a pleasant Easter mom.

Following this prognosticator of one's peace of mind,
comes the season of Lent. Nor is this to end the
month's festival days; for, on the fourteenth comes
St. Valentine's Day, on which all young hearts are
made glad in the hope of receiving a souvenir in the
shape of a carefully-shaped missive, which has seldom
failed to come along in the middle of February, with
its storm-clouds charged with hail or snow, turning
the sidewalks into skating rinks for the edification
of the boys and girls, whose gymnastic evolutions
must be tolerated as among the many other necessary
inconveniences. In lieu of these out-door winter
sports, the in-door, artificial skaters on "rollers" fill

ABE HILLER

• •.

• • •

• V

« •
• *

• t

Abe Miller and His Orchestra. 11

the rinks, as they swing their partners, not unlike the
boys used to their sweethearts on the improvised
platform ov^r at Rocky Springs before the trolley
came to take the place of the omnibus. Years have
gone by since it rolled its way out Rockland street,
thence through the covered bridge, close by where
the boy Fulton steered his flat-bottom scow, and
nearby where yet stands the homestead which gave
shelter to General Hand, of Revolutionary fame.

Well, well I getting along pretty smoothly for a be-
ginning, say you not, my old-timers, who have not
forgotten the famous "Miller String Band?" Am I
opening your storehouse of memory to "Abe," as he
called out, in a drawling monotone, "Swing your part-
ners! Gentlemen to the right, ladies to the left!"

Not to cause the few living "old veterans" to be
Umbering up their joints in boarding a trolley, in
imitation of the present generation in tripping the
light fantastic to the music of polkas and waltzes, in-
stead of the old-time "Virginia Reel," the "Lancers,"
"Fisher's Hornpipe," ending with the "Devil's
Dream," it is to new Rocky Springs the tide of young
is pressing its way.

And, oh, my I how old "Rocky" has changed 1
Why, it has become Lancaster's "New Midway," a
second "Coney Island," with the "Figure Eight" and
"Air-Ship" doing service amid the glare of the
m3rriads of electric lights and other amusements never
dreamed of a half century ago.

On the Conestoga, where in our day the crude row-
boat catered to the pleasures of old and young, we

12 Cherished Memories,

find the metal motor-boat gliding majestically along
beneath the over-hanging branches of willow and
sycamore, which yet stand in all their oldHime rugged-
ness linking the past with the present. If, then, we
old fellows are back-numbers to ''Old Rocky," why
deny us the pleasure of recalling the time when we were
the whole "push?"

Who, if may be asked, ever thought of visiting
"Indian Hill" fifty years ago except on an occasional
ramble? Now, known as "Williamson's Park," it
has become one of the most delightful retreats. Up
from the topmost peak the eye takes in, as the sun
sets itself to rest, a view not to be excelled the world
over. Here is "Old Dame Nature" catering to all
who love a day's outing where peace and rest may be
enjoyed at the least possible expense.

Growing a little sentimental on a birthday anniver-
sary? Yes, growing yearly in closer touch with
"country life," in doing what Goethe once upon a
time said every man, woman and child must do with
their whole mind, heart and soul — "quicken into new
life those deeper human instincts which can never
view a landscape unless moved by the consciousness
that within and surrounding Nature's handicraft is
God's unseen hand."

Getting back to the town, recalls what the great
Luther so aptly remarked once upon a time: "The
glory and strength of a city does not depend so much
on its great mansions, upon its well-paved streets, as
upon its learned, serious, kind and well-educated
citizens." To quote him further: "Till seven, we do

I/uther an Citizenship. 13

nothing but eat, deep, drink and play; from seven
till twenty-one, we work a little; then labor till fifty,
when we become children again." If, then, there be
any logic in the foregoing reasoning, there are two
kinds of children in Pennsylvania, if not in Lancaster:
those still under parental authority, and those pos-
sibly, who deserve to be, if their good deeds are to
be judged by their liberality of spirit. And here, the
pertinent question arises: "What have we as citizens
done to make Lancaster better, greater and artistically
more beautiful?"

CHAPTER II.

Childhood Days — We Remove to Leesburg, Va.
Easter and Christmas in the Sunny South.

HAVING partaken of a sumptuous birthday anni-
versary dinner, prepared by one who, for more
than a third of a century, has proved herself the young-
old man's most devoted friend and help-mate, I light
a fragrant Havana, manufactured from the Lancaster
county home-crop. Happy! Words fail to express my
pent-up emotions as the family group of three sons
and two daughters, the younger a girl of fifteen, with
arms around her father's neck, and a loving kiss upon
his forehead, as in the innocence of her girlhood, she
plays with a few strands of gray "Old Father Time"
has permitted to remain.

An old man at seventy-three I What a libel on that
most delightful of all the seasons, the autumn of life,
for one, with few regrets for the years that have gone
nor anxious longings for their return! "Of course,
of course," I keep thinking, "this bright-eyed home-
body is too young to remember her papa's first
daguerreotype taken at the age of seventeen, away
back in '54, on the third floor of the Kramph building."
It was then I was prone to consider this memento in
its little black case as fair for any young miss of six-
teen to look upon as were the many others which
embellished the walls of the late Jack Johnston's

14

WILLIAM RIDDLE, AT AGE 73

_ •

• -•

ft

My First Smoke. 15

studio. And even at this household reunion, it carries
with it a charm with which none of my later photo-
graphs can compare. Reproduced as a frontispiece,
who would ever dare appropriate it except to pass it
off as his own?

And now, with a "red rose," the emblem of city and
county, pinned upon the lapel of my coat, I am per-
mitted, by common consent, to give myself up to an
examination of birthday-anniversary presents.

'*0h, glory!" I exclaim, as alone I glance over the
center-table. Coming to the last, I am puzzled to
know just what the package contains, wrapped so
carefully with ribbon — band of red, white and blue.
"No sweatmeats in this!" I articulate, as I dangle it
at arm's length. "Red, white and blue — ^patriotic
colors I nothing slow about this!" I continue to solilo-
quize, removing one layer after another. At last, at
last, my eyes behold a box of fragrant "Manillas,"
from the far-away Philippines, with label indicating
that they had been admitted free of duty by the gov-
ernment custom-house oflBcials.

Lighting one and throwing the smoke in graceful
ringlets over my head, I begin to enjoy the flavor as
I compare the aroma with that of the first "rattail"
I had ever smoked, at the age of ten, over on the Lime
Street Bridge, when a big, round copper cent went
pretty far along the lines of economy. Do I remember
this my first experience with the insidious "weed?"
Well, well, never mind, my boys, you won't have long
to wait; maybe, later on, if all goes right, the auto-
biographer may be persuaded into making a con-

16 Cherished Memories.

fession of the health-giving effects of his first
''smoke."

And now, after a short hour's nap, I am all the better
prepared to launch forth on the evolution of the narra-
tive which, while of little interest to those who seldom
read other than the base-ball news, may yet prove
none the less interesting to the town and county's
"serious, kind and well-educated citizens."

Among the first of my childhood recollections were
the moral and religious precepts daily set forth by
my sainted mother; some to be observed and profited
by; others, to fall by the wayside, like good seed sown
upon stony soil. And yet, if all did not take deep
root, producing their full measure, I have had good
cause to rejoice that all didn't go in one ear and out
the other.

With this slight tribute to one who has long since
passed away in the fulness of her years, it may be
said that my three brothers died during early infancy,
leaving an only son to manage three girls, one older,
the others younger than myself. Thus the passing
of the boys goes to prove the truth of the adage,
"The good die young."

As I was to learn at a later day, I was born nearly
opposite the First Presbyterian Church, on the six-
teenth of February, in the year one thousand, eight
hundred and thirty-seven. At the time of my advent,
little occurred to disturb the town's equilibrium, for
the reason possibly that, during this somewhat early
period, there was no "Board of Health," compelling
doctors to make returns of all new-comers. To this
oversight may be attributed the apparent slow growth

Old Lime Street Bridge. 17

of the town, which at this epoch contained a popula-
tion of something less than eight thousand, according
to the returns of the census enumerator.

From such data as I have been able to gather, it
was in '41 we moved from Orange to one of the new
brick houses on the east side of North Lime street,
south of the bridge which crosses the "deep cut," as
the railroad was called at this point. Beginning at
Chestnut, the turnpike, after crossing the bridge,
turned directly to the right, then to the left, passing
the Lancaster Cemetery, which was laid out in either
'49 or '50. Prior to this time, singular as it may seem
to those younger in years, this "city of the dead"
was devoted to the raising of com, wheat and other
farm-products.

North of the Lime and Shippen street bridges were
what were known as the "Hensel" and "Bobby"
Fultz's orchards, in which grew the luscious fruits
of all kind and variety, from the rambo, smokehouse,
belleflower, pound-apple, to the much-despised grind-
stone, which, on being dug up from its burial place,
in the late spring, proved so mellow and appetizing.

After Lime Street was opened from the bridge to
Lemon, along in the early fifties, Mr. Jacob Drucker-
miller built the first house on the west side, midway
between the bridge and Lemon. Directly facing our
house, where the Traction Company*s freight station
stands, was a brewery vault, in which were stored,
deep down underground, the immense hogsheads of
lager and strong beer. In the rear of this ungainly
structure was the large frame carpenter shop of Mr.
2

18 Cherished Memories.

Jacob Hensel, in which all work was done by hand,
instead of by machinery, as at the present day.

Aside from these diverting thoughts, there is one
other that must ever remain green in memory, not
to be overlooked if a true and faithful chronicle of
events is to follow. How can I forget when, at the
age of seven, father summoned the family group into
his presence and told us that he had been requested
by the late William Kirkpatrick to take charge of a
manufacturing industry in the town of Leesburg,
Virginia! Where this place was located, whether a
hundred or a thousand miles distant, we children
little knew and cared less; that we were to leave Lan-
caster, not in a steam car, but in a carriage, seemed
all-sufficient. We were going to move. This in itself
had a peculiar fascination, as it usually has for the
young, without any preconceived ideas of what a
"flitting" actually means. Only father and mother
could at the time feel that the parting from old friends
had a significance scarcely apparent to those younger
in years.

In order to aid the boys in looking over the maps
of their geographies, one April morning after being
crowded into a large carriage, we bade the town a
final farewell, with feelings that we were never more
to return. It was not, however, until we had reached
"Old St. James" that mother burst into tears at the
thought of leaving church and pastor, the Rev. Sam-
uel Bowman, whose frequent visits to our house had
endeared him to one and all.

It is then, with the deepest reverence, a few words

THBEE IN ONE

Three Good Samaritans. 19

may be said for one we all so dearly loved. Rev.
Bowman was a most lovable personage; he was more:
he was one of Grod's earthly disciples sent to comfort
the meek and lowly. Once a week regularly, amid
storm and sunshine, he would sit reading a chapter
out of the old family Bible, then all kneeling, would
come one of his fervent prayers which, if little under-
stood by those younger in years, never failed to make
a deep, lasting impression on the very heart and soul
of our indulgent mother, whose prayers went daily
up to Him Who giveth all things to those who trust
in His goodness and mercy.

Passing this heart-felt tribute, not without a keen
sense of its meaning, we knew Dr. Bowman as a lad;
we knew him as we grew in years, as he walked the
streets in company with his bosom-friends. Father
Eeenan and "Pappy'' Baker. These ''three in one,"
although of different faith, were bound together by
the closest ties of intimacy, socially and religiously.
Nor indeed were their spheres in life limited to the
personal; hand in hand, they went their way, as three
good Samaritans, inspired only by those higher and
holier motives — ^the elevation of mankind to a broader
conception of man's humanity to man. Sad as it
may seem, it was in the early sixties that the tick of
the instrument brought the news that Doctor Bow-
man had met an unexpected death while walking along
the railroad near the present town of Oil City.

And now to our journey to Leesburg. What direc-
tion we took after leaving Lancaster I had at the time
no means of knowing. But later, as we crossed the

20 Cherished Memories.

camel-back bridge spanning the Susquehanna at
Hanisburg, I for the first time began to reaUze what
leaving home actually meant, with the great expanse
of water beneath. Later I was overcome with a
feeling of fear and curiosity as we reached the Potomac
at the Point of Rocks, and where, to my horror, we were
landed on a flat boat, horse and carriage, with its load
of human freight.

Arriving safe on the other side, on we went for a
distance of more than thirty miles. At last, tired
and weary of the long journey, we drew up in front
of an unpretentious, two-story frame dwelling,
already furnished with such articles of furniture as
the stores of the town could best afford.

If my mind, even now, is incapable of picturing
Leesburg as it existed long years before the war, I
wasn't, at the age of seven, incapable of appreciating
the myriads of Spring flowers which grew before the
house in all their beauty. Up and around the win-
dows and door twined the honeysuckle, while back
in the yard bloomed the peach and apricot, at all
times so tempting to the average boy as he glances
up at the ripened fruit so near yet so far.

As memory recalls, in addition to the flowers every-
where in evidence, it was the strangeness of the sur-
roundings that caused my first spell of home-sickness.
The excitement attending the long journey having
subsided, it took what only a mother's caressing
could do to keep the tears from flowing thick and
fast as my thoughts drifted back to "Old Lancaster."
At last the "spell" was broken as the village people

Negro Melodies, 21

came ready with open arms to welcome to their midst
those who had come from the far North. For, in
those early times before the steam engine had reached
Leesburg, a family of strangers was so out of the usual
as to attract the attention of old and young. For-
tunately, as father's mission was in no way connected
with poUtics, our reception was all that could have been
expected. What it might have been had his name
been associated with any of the "Down East" Abo-
litionists, the writer has no means of knowing.

Before leaving Lancaster, to the best of my recol-
lection, I had never seen a colored person, nor had I
become familiar with the negro melodies I was later
to hear Mr. Joe Rattee's slaves sing to the music of
the banjo. Night after night, during the long summer
evenings, they would gather in little groups before
our house. And while I have long since forgotten
the words to many of these simple refrains, they
unconsciously burst forth at moments when least
expected, showing how impressions made upon the
mind and heart in boyhood yet cling down through
the after years of one's life.

As my playmates were my three sisters, with a few
of the neighbors' children to make merry over, all
my adventures, with a few exceptions, occurred in
and around the home. One of the most unfortunate
was, when I was set upon by an unruly old gander.
That I came out second best in the battle, a solution
of goose-grease well applied gave immediate relief
as a counter irritant. What actually became of this
disturber of my otherwise peaceful moments I have

22 Cherished Memories.

no means of knowing. But as age with ganders don't
count, the probability is that during a contemplated
visit to this conservative hamlet, the first to give his
old friend a hearty welcome will be Mr. Gander.

Following this my most serious adventure came
others, the most pleasing of which was on a lovely
Easter mommg when, crawUng under a fence into a
field of deepest green, I discovered a half dozen beauti-
fully-colored eggs. Oh! how my young heart beat
with rapture at the thought of how a Virginia bunnie
had not forgotten to remember a little tot who had
come so many miles to pay her his respects. But my
sisters were not to be slighted; in other secluded nooks
they, too, were delighted to find their share of golden-
colored eggs to make merry over on this glorious Easter
morning. Never since have I enjoyed these Easter-
day offerings with more inward satisfaction. Before
the day had closed came the little colored urchins with
baskets filled with eggs of variegated colors. And it
was from these bright-eyed woolly-heads I learned to
use the small, speckled guinea egg to good effect in an
"end-to-end'' contest with the ordinary kind. Held
tightly in hand, there could be but one result, the win-
ning over of the common kind, not excepting the duck,
goose or turkey egg. Of course, at the age of seven, I
was too young to catch on to the numerous other games
then in vogue among the larger boys in the village of
Leesburg, as well as over in Lancaster, where, notwith-
standing my departure, as I was later to learn, games of
all kinds had continued with uninterrupted regularity.
But as I wasn't there to take a hand in directing my

Christmas in Virginia. 23

former cronies in the modus operandi of hopscotch,
marbles, kite-flying, comer and town-ball, and last,
though not least, "shinny," the reader must bear
with a few more of a young Virginian's escapades, as
a reminder to the lads of this twentieth century that,
sitting on the "grand stand" on a cold day over at
base-ball grounds in watching the players isn't getting
the most out of their boyhood life.

Well, with the passing of early spring came the
glorious " Fourth," but there were no firing of crackers,
no booming of cannon such as had fallen on my ears
over in old Lancaster. This, according to custom,
was reserved for the incoming Christmas, and when
it came, what a commotion! We children were all
ready to retire when a rap at the front door admitted
two " belsnickles," leaning on their staffs, dressed in
dashing, flashing colors, with faces encased in masks
such as more than one other boy has since observed
on a Christmas eve. Frightened almost out of our
wits, we children went searching 'round for the near-
est avenue of escape, which at this trying moment
was behind our mother's chair. Ahl but when they
began to strew the big horsey-cakes, nuts and candies
over the floor, I was the first to scramble forth, fearful
lest I should fail to get my full honest share of the
many goodies. And here it may be admitted that
in this rush my grasping spirit first began to assert
itself. As a gentle reminder that I wasn't the only
"pebble on the beach," I was given a gentle tap on
the head with one of the long poles, the result of which,
while it didn't cause me to disgorge what was suflScient

24 Cherished Memories.

to serve the inner-boy for a week, had the effect of
restraining my impetuosity in making me more con-
siderate for the feelings of others more modestly dis-
posed.

Making due allowance for this scrambling propensity
in boys to be grasping ever3rtliing in sight, the same
to-day as in ''ye olden time," after two years' residence
in the "Old Dominion," who should come riding into
the village but William Kirkpatrick on his ever faith-
ful roadster, with saddle-bags behind. His long,
green leggings, strapped securely 'round his lower
extremities, presented a picture to my youthful im-
agination long to be remembered. And yet it was
only the usual custom to cover long distances at or
before the time of railroads.

Without running largely into biography, it may be
eaid from such intimate acquaintance as I had formed
later with this, the first manufacturer of threshing
machines in the county of Lancaster, that "Billy"
Kirkpatrick, as he was familiarly called, was, in many
respects a remarkable man, not only as a leader of
the town's industrial life, but as a citizen of irreproach-
able character. Active in politics, first as a Whig,
later as a Republican, he served the last years of his
life as Street Commissioner.

His first place of business was on the north side of
Chestnut street, near Market, removing later in the
rear of the late David Stauffer's residence, on East
Orange street, where he continued business until the
breaking out of the war. During the many years of
his active career there was seldom a time he wasn't

Panic of 1837. 25

hard pressed financially. As his sales were always
direct with farmers, he was compelled to be absent
for weeks on a collecting tour. Unlike to-day, there
were no "middle men" to handle his machinery, nor
had the day of checks come fully into vogue.

As only the very few can bear witness, it was no
uncommon thing for his workmen, laboring for a
dollar a day, to sit well into midnight awaiting his
return, and then be compelled to accept a dollar bill
to do the marketing the morning following. As every
State bank had its own currency, what a time had his
brother Ephraim between sneezes (for he was an in-
veterate sneezer) to be searching the Bank Directory
in ascertaining what notes were good, bad or at a
discount. Only too frequently workmen were com-
pelled to accept orders for their wood, flour and other
necessaries. Trade unions and half-holidays being
unknown, many of the best mechanics were compelled
to accept such wages as would be beneath the notice
of the average boot-black of the present day.

William Kirkpatrick on this visit had a sad story
to relate; times the country over, instead of growing
better, were growing worse, compelling him to close
his Leesburg plant.

As every cause must have its effect, a short sketch
of results following President Jackson's administra-
tion, beginning in '29 and ending in the memorable
year '37, may serve to recall what John Quincy Adams
declared, that "without a dollar of national debt, the
government was in the midst of national bankruptcy."

Jackson's presidency of eight years stood without

26 Cherished Memories.

a parallel as one of rapid growth and great prosperity
throughout the entire country. Canals had been
opened, steamboats were running on the Great Lakes
and Western rivers, and the whistle of the locomotive
was beginning to be heard beyond the Alleghanies.
Indeed, so impressed was Jackson with the fruits of
his eight years of office, that he was overheard to
say, "I leave this great people prosperous and happy."

However, in less than thirty days after Martin Van
Buren had assumed the duties of the office, business
failures in the city of New York reached the enormous
sum of one hundred million dollars. With this, banks
began to fail, and the difficulty of getting gold or silver
became so great that even the United States govern-
ment had to pay the army and navy in paper money,
which, if it chanced to be good to-day, might be worth-
less tomorrow.

Everyivhere in all parts of the country factories and
mills came to a standstill, throwing thousands of work-
men out of emplo3nment. As many of the states had
borrowed large sums of money in Europe for the build-
ing of roads, canals and railways, it was with difficulty
they could raise sufficient money to pay the interest.
In 1830 the total debt for these improvements was
only thirteen millions; seven years later it had risen
to nearly two hundred millions.

For this chaotic condition there were three chief
causes: First, after Jackson had refused to re-charter
the United States Bank, a flood of state banks sprang
into existence; second, the ease with which the people
had borrowed money led to wide speculation in land,

A Parson With an Appetite. 27

leading buyers to purchase town lots at enormous
prices in Western "cities" that had no existence except
on paper. As a result, the government began to call
in the gold and silver which it had deposited in certain
"pet" state banks, refusing at the same time to sell
any more public land except for hard cash. As a
result, property of all kind fell in price; banks could
neither redeem their bills, collect debts, nor pay them;
thence followed the crash.

Such were the conditions that brought "Billy"
Kirkpatrick to Leesburg. Along in the middle forties,
with the closing of Harrison and Tyler's administra-
tion, after learning of these hard times which were
still being felt, we had but one of two alternatives,
either to remain in Leesburg or to drift back to Lan-
caster, the very thought of which, when it became
a reality, began to bring cheer to one and all. "We
are going back to dear old St. James," came the heart-
felt response of mother, as she gathered us all around
her.

That she never at any time felt reconciled to the
change was not owing to a want of kindness on the
part of the people of Leesburg. No; far from it I
But the elderly parson, as I can see him yet, with his
long-tail coat buttoned up in front to hide his yard-
in-length beard, was not the kind of a parson to take
the place of the much-beloved Bowman. Being of
the "Holy-Roller" Methodistic faith, he was as loud
in household devotion as he was when standing back
of the pulpit exhorting the mourners to come for-
ward. And while not a believer in the Millerite scare

28 Cherished Memories.

which had swept like an avalanche over the village
during our first summer's sojourn, he was at all times
ready to predict Hades as the place for all who refused
to conform to his own peculiar religious convictions.
He had one redeeming trait, he seldom missed calling
'round to partake of a good dinner, oftentimes remain-
ing over for the evening repast. Often since have I
been reminded of the old adage, "a lean nag for a
long race." Where this goodly divine managed to
store the quantity of substantials of one meal, always
being ready for the next, he never could be persuaded
to tell. As for birthday anniversaries — these he never
missed. And never within my mother's recollection
was he known to offer congratulations in any other
way than in one of his long-drawn-out prayers, which
always had the effect of putting us children to sleep
behind the ten-plate wood-stove in the shortest time
possible. On one occasion in particular, on seeing
him coming, I deliberately crawled into the wood-box,
instructing my eldest sister to sit upon the lid until
he had departed. That I was finally drawn out, half
suffocated, was not owing to prayer so much as to
mother's watchful eye.

Another episode occurring in Leesburg at the time
has to do with the pestiferous crow, whose depreda-
tions had caused a small reward to be placed upon his
head by either the local or state authorities. Their
favorite roosting place was on a nearby hill, covered
with scrub-oak, cedar and other indigenous growth.

Besides the many others who took pure delight in
going forth to reap a harvest at crow-shooting was an
outlandish specimen of the back country, of grotesque

Jimmy McClune. 29

appearance, wearing a suit of what was known as
"slouch-cloth," or common bagging. His equipment,
apart from a leather apron and otter cap, which resem-
bled the steeple of the meeting-house, consisted of a
small woodchuck's skin, sewed together in the form
of a bag, partly filled with buckshot; an oxhom with
powder, and an old rusty gun about seven feet in
length from the muzzle to the breach, and which had
possibly come over on one of Columbus' first Dutch
ships.

Passing along the main street, he was interrogated
by one of the wags as to what regiment he belonged to.
"I belong to no regiment," came the reply, as he fired
his blunderbus over the head of the inquisitive by-
stander. "To what company do you belong?" "To
no company." "Then where in the devil do you
belong, and what are you doing here"? "Dang,
twisted," said the fellow, "I don't belong anywhere,
I am fighting crows on my own hook, gosh, hang it!"
And away he went to the hill with his rusty carbine,
only to return later with the inside of his slouchcloth
bagging filled with crows' heads.

Only once since have I seen his equal, and that
was poor Jimmy McQune, who used to visit the
Tucquan camp on the Susquehanna; and where on a
stump he would sit by the hour, pla3dng on his one-
string fiddle for a few stray pennies which fell into his
coffers. That "Jimmy's music had charms to soothe
the savage ear," was apparent alone to "Conny," who
would linger by his side a whole night through in a
drowsy, sleepy attitude. But we are drifting.

And here, as a fitting close to this chapter, an epi-

30 Cherished Memories.

sode may be related that goes far in linking the
present with the past. Father, at the time of our
residence in Lreesburg, had invented a new com-
sheller, and after completing a model, went his way
on horseback to the city of Washington with the
new device strapped to his side. Being anxious for
the trip, I was allowed to ride behind. What occurred
on our arrival I do not remember. But on our return
I was to learn that he had received papers entitling
him to lay exclusive claim to the new device.

And now, what might seem as a coincidence: it was
some forty years later, while on a visit to Washington
to view the remains of the much-lamented Garfield,
that I happened to enter the storage-room of the patent
office, and it was while strolling here and there among
the innumerable number of models of every imagin-
able shape, kind and variety, that my eyes instinct-
ively took in the crude device stored there so many
years before by one who at that time imagined he was
to reap a fortune out of the new patent sheller.

Since then I have often thought of the many de-
vices from which no returns have come to reward the
patentee for the worry and labor bestowed on them.
And yet if only the very few have reaped a rich harvest,
the ultimate good to the world at large, and to the
United States in particular, is beyond estimate.
From the first small beginnings, down to this year
1910, with drawings taking the place of the crude,
manufactured model, the world has at last seen the
"dirigible" sailing majestically along as the inventor
sits looking down over the heads of the astonished
multitude.

CHAPTER III.

Back to Lancaster — First Locomotive — School

Days — ^Andy Blue.

AND now, to our homeward journey! Homeward
bound I Has the writer touched a tender chord
in the heart of the traveler as he steps aboard a liner
on the other side of the great "Divide," only too glad
to get but a glimpse of his native land? If it's always
a pleasure to get away for a month or two, how much
more delightful to be able to exclaim, "Home again!"

Contrast, if you please, the diflference in the mode
of travel between six decades ago and the present,
when an automobile or a steam engine can cover the
distance in one-tenth the time. In this advanced age
of hustle and bustle, when one may reach the North
Pole, or go around the world without attracting more
than passing attention, a description of our return
trip would seem to be a waste of time and energy.
However, a narrative once begun is not unlike a vessel
starting for a foreign port, it must reach its destination
or go down beneath the waves.

Accustomed by this time to jogging along in mak-
ing use of my eyes, it wasn't long until we. had reached
for the second time the Potomac. And it was while
taking supper at an inn on the Maryland side that
my eldest sister came running, 8a3dng, "Come, come
and see the steam cars." Rushing to the door, I
beheld for the first time a monster locomotive puffing

31

32 Cherished Memories.

its way over the rails. As I distinctly remember, the
engine had no cab, nor were the cars like those I have
since seen passing through the "deep-cut.*' Several
were not unlike those of an overland stage-coach,
except that these were strung together, one behind
the other. Added were a few open cars without any
protection from the sparks of the "wood-burner."

Although I had lived for a year or two within a
stone's throw of the Lime Street Bridge, I had never
seen a train nor could I recall when the motive-
power was the horse, in drawing the cars maybe at a
dog-trot from Philadelphia to Columbia.

Passing for the present much of local history relat-
ing to early railroading, it may be said that after many
inconveniences we once more reached "Old St.
James.*' It was then I heard mother exclaim,
"Thank God, we are once more back in dear, old
Lancaster I" It is, then, in no way strange that old
Lancaster has ever been dear to the young-old man's
heart, with early impressions seldom to be effaced.

Little could I imagine as we landed at the door of
the same Lime Street house from which we had de-
parted two years before, that I was so soon to become
the hero among the boys of my own age. That the
weekly newspapers made no mention of our arrival
was largely owing to the fact that the twentieth-
century reporter hadn't as yet been discovered. With
the boys, however, I was "it," for the good and suf-
ficient reason that I had traveled "some;" had passed
twice through the camel-back bridge spanning the
Susquehanna, whose width, according to my descrip-

Early Cognomens. 33

tion, differed little from its length. But what mat-
tered it? Beyond, I had gone through miles of un-
explored territory, crossing the Potomac, a name
scarcely one of the town's kids of my age had ever
heard of, except what had been told them by the
High School boys who had gone through Peter Par-
ley's geography, without knowing whether the earth
was round, square or flat.

As this is my golden opportunity to set forth what
has hitherto failed to appear in the last "Obituary"
Volume — a few of my earlier escapades,. I must ask
the reader's indulgence while I describe some of the
encomiums bestowed upon my youthful self, all with-
out having as much as thrown out a hint that I was
at all desirous of honors, such as have only too fre-
quently been heaped upon the heads of others by col-
leges and universities with the implied understanding
that on their demise a liberal allowance will be set apart
for the base- or foot-ball team. In one respect I've
been fortunate, for the reason that it isn't well that
too many good things should come early in life.

Well, be this as it may, owing to my having gone
where others had never dared to venture for fear of
being gobbled up by spooks, hobgoblins and kid-
nappers, I was, at the age of nine, ornamented with
the distinguished title of '* Commodore!" Why I
was the only one of a coterie of street urchins to receive
this "sea-fighting" honor can only be accounted for
on the assumption that I had personally met George
Washington, "first in war, first in peace and first in
the hearts of his countrymen," over in the city that
3

34 Chenshed Memories.

bore his distinguished name. The crossing of Mason
and Dixon's line had caused me to be looked upon as
a second Robinson Crusoe or a Marcus Polo, the former
being the first book on travel I had ever read, and
may be said to have been largely responsible for stimu-
lating the scope of my youthful imagination as a
descriptive story teller.

For a time I bore the title of "Commodore" with
becoming modesty, never once thinking of entering
the navy. And being an only son, to have entered
the army during the war of Rebellion, might have been
disastrous to my three sisters, whom I felt it my duty
to stand by in war and peace. Then birthday anni-
versaries couldn't be overlooked.

With this satisfactory reason, to which no old veteran
will enter his protest, after "Commodore" came from
my old friend "Jere," that of "Judge," followed by
'* Squire," "Captain." As none of these titles had
any salary attached, I fell back on "Professor,"
changing it to that of "teacher-instructor," and even
these I have managed to outlive. "Honorable" is
an appendage I was equally fortunate in escaping,
for the reason that I have never been mayor, nor a
member of the Legislature. Not to become too for-
getful, there is still one other title, that of "Uncle."
Ah! how very pleasing in one's old age to be desig-
nated "Uncle" by "Conny" on entering the "Ham-
ilton" for a julep of mint and cracked ice! But withal,
our genial bachelor friend never committed the un-
pardonable sin of designating poor me with the title
of "Grand-pap," for the reason, no doubt, that I'm

George Washington and I. 35

still on the sunny side of life. Why, it's the surest
sign that you're getting old! Then to be met on the
street with, ''How's the kid, old man?" You may
smile for the darling s sake, but when surrounded by
a half-dozen or more hanging 'round your neck, sajdng,
"Oh, grandpa, won't you take us to the picture show,
to the circus or to Rocky Springs?" Then to be
everlastingly reminded of birthday anniversaries,
after your last dollar has gone into a Nova Scotia
copper mine or into "Wireless," with promises to pay
at the coming of the Millennium!

But to get back to my return from Leesburg. As
the result of my having traveled "some," I was taken
into the best families, if not into a "dime museum,"
where I was only too willing to tell of the many
strange people I had seen on my travels, of all sizes,
shapes and colors, excepting possibly the red men
of the great Western plains.

Without drawing too fine a point between the other
boys and myself, I usually managed to stick pretty
close to facts when in the presence of older heads, and
never once did I claim to have crossed the three-
thousand miles of ocean on the one side, nor the over-
land route to the Pacific, on the other. Yes, while
visiting 'round, I managed to follow pretty close in
the footsteps of George Washington, for the reason
that "George" and I were both bom in the same
month of glorious old February. If, up to this time
I had never owned a little hatchet, it was owing to
the reason that there were no "ten-cent" Woolworth
stores ready to supply a "C!ommodore' with hatchets

36 Cherished Memories,

sufficient to hack to pieces all the cherry-trees in the
town. But as I recall, the boys in the forties and
fifties were not so much given to "hacking" as to
looking after the delicious "bull-hearts" which grew
on the tree back of old Dan Wemts's blacksmith shop.

Over on the Lime Street Bridge, where the Sabbath-
school lads used to congregate, I was the center of
attraction, as each of my "greenies" stood with eyes
and mouth wide open ready to absorb the many
wonderful tales I had woven into all kind of fantastic
shapes. As was usually the case, all the big copper
cents that weren't gobbled up by the undertaker
for his gruesome purpose, went into the coffers of
"Mammy" Haggerty for "small-beer," "ginger-
horses" and "paddy-cakes", as a reward for their
youthful companion's tales, and which, to the "green-
ies," were as mystifying as they were entertaining.
As has already been said, Peter Parley simply "wasn't
in it."

And now, after these many years, I am surprised
how many of these paddy cakes could be crowded
into a boy's stomach without bringing on an attack
of acute indigestion. Why, if the olden-time doctors
had been as wise as those of this twentieth century,
the writer might long since have been operated upon
for appendicitis with such results as have usually
followed.

Having for the second time whetted the appetites
of the city boys, how can I well forego mention of
poor little Andy Blue! "Andy" was nearly as broad
as long, with a mouth extending from ear to ear.

Andy's Love for Paddycakes. 37

Whether paddy-cakes were made for this porpoise-
shaped urchin, or "Andy'' for this nutritious mixture
of molasses and walnut kernels, we know not. But
we remember "Andy's" reaching school with a
round dozen as his stock in trade. Unfortunately,
before he could manage to get away with more than
a limited number, the second ring of the bell came
as a warning that those remaining were to be stored
away somewhere; and as the safest place was into
his trousers' pocket, down they went without a
thought of what was to happen once the fermentation
began to bear fruit.

And now, my hungry lads, if I may arouse your
sympathy, in your imagination glance into the school
upon the "innocent" Andy, as he stands before the
red-hot stove with second reader in one hand, the
other deep down in the taffy's vice-like grip. It's
an awful moment, bringing tears to the eyes of the
on-lookers. Ah I but watch his contortions as the
irritable old pedagogue thunders forth, "Take the
book in your right hand, Andy, and in noway be
slow about it."

At last, at last, with one determined effort to release
the erring hand, out comes a mixture of slate pencils,
a barlow-knife and other odds and ends, all woven
and interwoven with the lining of his pocket and
fingers, and so welded together as to make the separa-
tion of the "paddy" from the conglomerate mass
next to an impossibility. No, no I It'll never do to
revive old-time customs; these mixtures have had
their day, the same as the "love letters" our genial

38 Cherished Memories.

doctor-friend used to wrap so carefully in his father's
candy store, nearly opposite where the Shober inn
used to stand, and wherein "Money" used to cater
to the incoming hosts at a time before the trolley and
auto had taken the place of the numerous traps strung
along the streets, giving the town a Whitmonday
appearance.

Making due allowance, as we feel sure the reader
will, for a little over-indulgence of bojdsh pranks, to
divert attention momentarily from the forties to a
much later epoch, to where stood the "Eagle," my
eyes take in the Young Men's Christian Association's
artistically-proportioned structure. As somewhat of
a coincidence, it was in "Temperance Hall," on Decem-
ber 9, 1869, that the Y. M. C. A. was organized, in
the Kramph building, since removed to make room
for the Traction Company's stately edifice. To pass
it by without a thought of the lasting influence upon
young manhood, would be to remain forgetful of the
diflference between the advantages of this twentieth
century and that of six decades ago, when boys were
supposed to paddle their own canoes without a
thought of the turbulent sea over which they were
drifting.

And as we further glance the city over, it would be
singular indeed if we failed to take in the large brick
building on the east side of South Queen where, so
many years ago. Dr. Frederick Augustus Muhlenberg
dealt out his big doses of calomel jalap for nearly
every disease known to the medical fraternity. And,
oh, my! what a wholesome mixture when forced down

Charitable and Educaiional Buildings, 39

a boy's throat on a pewter spoon! One single dose,
whether for the tooth-ache or any one of the many
other complaints, was sufficient to cause a second
jalap to be given a wide range.

Blessed then be the women who years ago purchased
this building for the uplifting of young womanhood.
If, then, a generous support be given to the Young
Men's Association, why not an equally liberal support
to that of the Young Women's?

Along the same line of the educational are Lancas-
ter's magnificent public school buildings, for the
training of the young of the city, especially when com-
pared with the long rows of one-story buildings which
exist only in photographic portraiture. And yet in
our boyhood days they were not to be despised on
account of their crude, outward appearance. From
within have gone forth men and women who in years
gone by stood for all that gave the town character
worthy the name Lancaster.

In addition to these new school buildings are our
churches, of which, in 1830, there were but nine;
which have increased in number, if not proportionately
in attendance, in the same ratio with the city's popu-
lation.

Apart from our hospitals and other charitable in-
stitutions, we have the new Stevens' Industrial School,
the A. Herr Smith Library, just entering upon its
first year of usefulness in educating the youth up
to a high appreciation for such literature as is most
needed in every well-regulated family. Westward,
resting like an English palace amid rows of maples.

40 Cherished Memories.

is the "Long Home" for indigent women, while be-
yond the city limits of two-miles square, is the " Long
Park," adding pleasure, it is hoped, to thousands yet
unborn.

Nor can we overlook Franklin and Marshall's mag-
nificent buildings, standing midway between the
"Home" and the "Park." If praise be given to a
few of Lancaster's foremost citizens for their liberality,
a debt of gratitude should not be withheld from certain
non-resident students who, in glancing backward,
have not forgotten their love for their Alma Mater in
coming to its support with a generous endowment.

We first came to know Franklin and Marshall when
it stood nearly opposite the Shippen School for young
ladies, another most worthy enterprise, likewise
deserving a generous support.

Growing optimistic? Well, isn't it better to rise
on a February morning with cheerfulness of heart
than to turn pessimist in predicting the town's going
to the bad?

THE OLD COURT HOUSE

CHAPTER IV.

Lancaster in the 40's — Henry Stiff — Charlie
BucKRUM — Johnny Elliott.

IN going back to my return from the "Old Domin-
ion," let me draw a pen picture of the town Lan-
caster, when I, as a lad of nine, took my first stroll
through the streets with a warning that I should be
careful not to pass too far from the curb for fear of
losing my kip boots, where, as had been said, a man
on horseback had gone down a short time previous
with only his broad-brim black-felt head gear remain-
ing to mark the spot where he had so suddenly dis-
appeared.

Having grown somewhat in length as well as in
age, I was on the alert in noting everything new that
came within my vision. If, then, a strange face loomed
up, or another sleepy night-watchman placed on duty
by the goodly mayor, Michael Carpenter, in lieu of
one who had reached the century-mark, it wasn't
that the town had changed sufficiently during the
two previous years to cause me to lose my way in reach-
ing the court-house, in Penn Square, considered then
as now the "hub" around which has since centered
the commercial life of the city.

Here, in '46, where the Soldiers' Monument stands,
stood, until '51, as artistically-proportioned court-
house as could be found anyivhere in the Common-

41

42 Cherished Memories.

wealth of Pennsylvania. Unfortunately, only a very
few at this day can recall having seen this court of
justice, with the date "1783" deeply indentured on
its comer-stone. Like many another of the town's
old-time buildings, a splendid drawing of this struc-
ture is reproduced in this volume.

And now, dear reader, to follow the writer in his
description of this once-upon-a-time old landmark,
may be to awaken within you a greater appreciation
for "Old Lancaster," with a view of lending a helping
hand in the making of it more beautiful and artistic.
Here, as we stand close by Schaeffer's saddlery, we can
see the clock hanging in the belfry and further up, the
bell, sending hourly its ringing notes to the extremi-
ties of the town's four wards. Nor is the weather-
vane, upon which the washerwomen looked for storm
or sunshine, to be despised when compared with the
present Weather Bureau's uncertain disclosures.

On election day might have been seen at each of
its four comers the voters lined up in the casting of
their ballots, with such results as have since followed
at the twenty-seven or more precincts in this later day
of improved municipal machinery.

Ah! but step wittun, and instead of tiled floor, elec-
tric lights and other costly decorations, your feet rest
upon common English brick. To the right of the
East King street entrance you find, perchance, sitting
behind an improvised desk in a high-top chair, the
learned, dignified judge, and before him a James
Hopkins, Amos Ellmaker, William Jenkins, James
Buchanan, John R. Montgomery, Emanuel Reigart,

The Old Jail. 43

Reah Frazer, George Barton, Henry C. Long, William
B. Fordney, Washington Hopkins, Benjamin Champ-
neys, George B. Porter, A. L. Hayes and maybe
others, one or more of whom is pleading the cause of
some poor defendant awaiting the verdict, as for
months previous he might have been seen glancing
through the iron bars of the old jail, at the comer of
West King and Prince. From the bars above, by the
letting down of a string, the boys would attach to its
end a plug of tobacco to be only too thankfully received
by the prisoner at the bar.

With scores of others, I was present at the jail's
dismantlement, looked in upon the dungeon where,
as tradition had given place to rumor, a lone convict
had been forgotten and died of starvation. Deep
down in this underground vault, it was pointed out
how he had scraped the earth from the foundation
in his efforts to secure his liberty.

It was with trembling we stood on floor beyond
the main prison where the Indians had been massacred
by the ''Paxton boys," a tragedy to be forgotten only
after the jail was purchased by Christopher Hager,
for $8,500, the site alone being available for the
erection of Fulton Hall, along in fifty-two.

If, then, there was lamenting over the removal of
the court house, not a tear was shed when the jail's
last stone was removed in the hope of blotting out
unpleasant reminders.

Too young were we to remember when Lechler was
hung within its dismal walls; not so, however, with
the hanging of Haggarty, for the killing of Fortney,

44 Cherisfied Memories.

on South Queen street, nearly opposite Woodward
Hill cemetery.

The mention of "Woodward" recalls a few of the
many amusing characters whose profiles may be found
in the volume's pages, and which I've seen fit to desig-
nate the town's " celebrities." The first of this galaxy
of notables was "Harry Stifif," grave-digger, the man
who never buried people, always "planted" them. It
was at the time of the laying out of the Lancaster
Cemetery that we boys came to know "Old Harry."

However, it was in the daguerreotype gallery of the
late "Jack" Johnston, on the third floor of the re-
maining portion of the Kramph building, the rende-
vous of the humorously disposed, that I came in close
touch with "Harry" and "Jack," who usually catered
to the risibilities of old and young.

"Jack," as a newspaper reporter later in life, seldom
allowed an opportunity to escape his fluent pen with-
out holding this or that of his cronies up to a little
good-natured merriment. Apropos, many can scarcely
fail to remember two well-known "legal lights" who
on one occasion drove to Columbia to attend a polit-
ical meeting. It was after their return that the fol-
lowing appeared in the columns of the "Intelligencer:"
"Two of Lancaster's well-known attorneys having
started from the city with a swift team, were compelled,
owing to a mishap, to return on 5Aanfc«-mare."

"Harry," as one of the town's "under life," was as
well and favorably known as was his humble calling.
And yet, one thing may be said to his credit, he was
never caught sitting on the front door step of a resi-

HAltRY STIFF

• 9 •

Charlie Buckrum. 45

dence awaiting a "call," as was later said of a young
undertaker in the line of his commercialism. Nor was
he disposed to become one of the town's millionaires
in the piling up of a fortune; directly the reverse; he
was at all times liberally disposed in the rendering of
his bills for the "planting" of one of a half dozen out
of a single family. On one occasion, at least, when
payment was offered, he replied, after counting on his
fingers the others remaining, "No hurry in settling for
the 'planting' of the youngest, it's Harry who'll
wait to include the rest in one bill." Unfortunately,
with plenty of overdue accounts, Harry was at last
carried on a catafalque, such as were in use before the
day of hearses.

Next to Harry Stiff, in point of humor, was none
other than the colored Charlie Buckrum, and of so
much importance as to cause one of Lancaster's well-
known portrait painters to paint of himself a life-like
I)ortrait, and which at the present time embellishes
the walls of a well-known Philadelphia club-room.

In the line of his calling, as wood-sawyer and handy
jack of all trades, he was the first of the town's con-
tractors to form a "trust" by securing "jobs" and
then parceling them out to others, not at all times
with a handsome profit accruing to himself, like most
contractors of the present day, as the following story-
suggests itself.

At the time Mathias Zahm's place of business was at
the southeast comer of Penn Square, the old gentle-
man sent for Buckrum and said, "How much for
shoveling the snow from off four pavements?'!

46 Cherished Memories.

''Twenty-five cents." A half hour later came four
stalwart colored under-strappers with shovels as Con-
tractor Buckrum superintended the work. Calling
for his pay, he exclaimed, bowing profusely, ''Miste
Zahm, des colored contractor must heve four fippany-
bits, one fur each uf de shovelers." "But, but where
does the contractor's share come in?" '*Lawd, boss,
it's ole Buckrum thet's furgettin' all 'bout hisselfl"

As one of these of the "under-life" of the town of
the forties and fifties suggests another, it was still
years later when we first came to know "Johnny
ElUott." The last time we saw him he was walking the
streets like a withered tree in a virgin forest well on
toward his century-mark. Disguise the fact as some
may, they can hardly forget when they met here or
there to see this Shakespearian play "Hamlet," and
of how they went into convulsive laughter over his
many acrobatic contortions. In no way related to
the seventy-year-old Weston as a pedestrian, "Johnny"
is still pointed out as the man who, on being too late
at the Lancaster station, tramped his way from this
city to Baltimore, on a hot August day, with a kettle
of butter. Whether he arrived on schedule time,
beating the fast express, he never could be prevailed
upon to disclose. Nor was it the writer's pleasure to
sample the ingredient after having crossed Mason
and Dixon's line. It's well in meeting this century-old
withered tree to slip him a nickel, with a "Good-
morning, Johnny Elliott, and how goes the world
with you?"

Passing these well-known characters of bygone

JOHNNy ELLIOTT (DIED IlECENTLVl

• • •

* •••

First Coal Used. 47

days, to be followed by other events enacted in the
new prison, on an early market morning, passing around
the Square, your eyes take in teams of cord-wood with
drivers standing close by, demanding from eight to
ten dollars per cord for oak and hickory. Turning to
"sellers" of marketable products, we find them deal-
ing out to the "buyers" butter at a levy a pound,
eggs at ten cents per dozen, making a big, round,
silver dollar go pretty far along the lines of household
economy, with no "price-fixer" whispering in the
ears of the "seller" to be adding another cent or two
a pound to their butter.

Referring to the high price of cord-wood as a fuel,
it may be said that in the middle forties and early
fifties coal was an almost unknown quantity in Lan-
caster. Along this line, as a singular fact, up to the
time of the discovery of coal and for some years later,
the forests of Lancaster county had a value beyond
estimate, and were so carefully guarded that none
but the very oldest trees were disturbed. For this
there was a reason: Reports from the great treeless
West made it only too clear that in time the for-
ests of the Eastern Middle States would have a
value greater than the soil itself. Few at this day
can form the slightest conception of what the result
might have been, except for the discovery of the black
diamond. And yet, there has never been a time
when the ingenuity of man hasn't provided for what
nature has failed to supply, in its natural state.

The first dealer in the use of coal as a fuel among
the town-dwellers was old "Bobby" Johnson, whose

48 Cherished Memories.

improvised scales were back on Prince, near Walnut
street. Those of the town's, however, were in a shed
where formerly stood the Reformed church, at the
comer of Duke and Orange streets. Unlike the plat-
form scales of to-day, these steelyards were so ar-
ranged overhead as to hoist the load high in the air,
after which the wagon itself was weighed in the same
way.

The '* black diamond" was first hauled from Graef's
Landing, to which point the canal-boats had brought
it down the Susquehanna from the mines, thence up
the Conestoga by canal and tide-water to Lancaster.

In this connection, it may be not without interest
to learn that there is one living, Mr. Wash. Potts,
who, in his ninth year, ran away to become a riverman.
And many were the times he made his way from this
city via Safe Harbor thence through the Chesapeake
up the Delaware Canal, landing at Philadelphia. His
memory has suggested such staunch crafts as "The
Fanny Light," "The Rover of Lancaster," "The
Little Bob," "The Three Sisters," "The Julia and
Charles, " " The Blanton C. Walsh, " " The Col. Leland,"
"The Charles Eihler," "The York of Lancaster." "The
Lewis Hufford" was the storage boat. How many of
these, almost forgotten crafts came regularly up the
Conestoga is difficult to estimate, since rafting and
canaling have since become only a fragrant memory
with the few rivermen living in the old town of Mari-
etta. "It was in 1861; we had just gotten out of
Baltimore," concluded Mr. Potts, "when the Confed-
erates captured one of our three boats, taking it with

Old Style Stoves. 49

them to Norfolk, Virginia, allowing us to make our
escape with the other two. "

Our first recollection of this new fuel was when it
was unloaded in front of our house in chunks the size
of a bushel-measure, requiring the mallet to be brought
into use. This leads to our first departure from the
ten-plate wood stove to a "Benedict,*' adapted for
either coal or wood as occasion required. As we
recall, above the lower door into w^hich wood was
used, was a small eight by eight box with door. Into
this the coal was shoved. And, oh my! what a time we
had in getting the black stuff to ignite! The old
bellows didn't seem to do any good. Many families
after giving it a trial fell back, either on the wood stove
or on the fire-place where, with the long-handled tongs
the wood could be kept in place over the andirons.
At last, in time, stoves were invented better adapted
for the utilizing of the new fuel.

Of all the Saturday afternoon tasks, that tried a
boy's patience, the worst was polishing up the stove's
front plate to keep it shining like silver, for all good
housekeepers were judged by the condition in which
they kept the stove-plate, usually the size of a girl's
twentieth-century summer hat. If this was one of
my weekly tasks, other boys had theirs in polishing up
"the knocker of the big front door" of many a resi-
dence. And as we look 'round, how few of these brass
or silver knockers, once so generally in use, are to be
seen except in rare instances, indicating that the
owners were well-to-do. Apart from these outside
ornaments, what has become of all the big front door
4

50 Cherished Memories.

locks, fully a foot in length and of enonnous weight,
with key resembling in size and weight that of the old
jail-door.

As certain other things pass and repass before the
mind's eye like a series of moving pictures in the five-
cent Arcade, among the first to suggest itself is the old-
fashioned cradle which I was compelled to rock, some-
times in my wrath letting it take a double somersault.
Next, comes the doughtrayand rolling pin; and in the
back yard the circular top bake-oven on whose flat
surface the big, round loaves of dough were shoved in
on a long-handled platter. But this was before the
'* bread-wagon'* of the present day came along with
its '* five-cent "loaves as diminutive in size compared
with the kind our mother used to bake, as they are
high in price and light in weight.

And yet, within many of these old-time residences,
there was all of peace, comfort, happiness. Usually
a shake of the '* knocker*' admitted the visitor. If a
stranger, or maybe, the minister, the judge or some
other high dignitary, he was shown into the parlor
that for weeks previous had been closed to all other
outside intruders. Even the rays of '*01d Sol"
weren't allowed to peep through the bolted shutters
except on '* cleaning-up-day" when all was hurry and
flurry. And as to an occasional fly finding its way into
the old-fashioned parlor, it was sure never to get out
alive.

We have forgotten; there was one other occasion in
particular when the privacy of the parlor was claimed
by the girls, being their usual courting-place; and the

The Old Courting Sofas. 51

hair-cloth sofa of immense size with its iron springs,
was the one place for match-making. As we recall, it
used to be said that a proposal and acceptance made
anywhere else than on a haircloth sofa was sure to end
in a divorce. For this reason,if for no other, all well-to-
do families with marriageable daughters, had their
mahogany sofas handed down from generation to
generation. And to their passing for the cheap, mod-
em kind, may be said, has resulted the numerous
separations.

But what have become of the "Brussels" with their
many designs of flowers and curlicues? Imported at
a time before the high tariff, on the one hand and the
revival of American industry, on the other, the brus-
sels was as essential to every well-regulated parlor as
were the two mirrors, one at each end of the room from
floor to ceiling. Then the frescoed walls, hung with
paintings of the old folk long since passed away! Nor
must we overlook the center table of heavy mahogany
covered with wax-flowers and other bric-a-brac! In
many of the best furnished homes the splendid furni-
ture of other days, during recent years, has gone to
the auction-room or to the junk-dealer, who, knowing
the value of these relics of "ye olden time," has
reaped a rich harvest. Following went the rickety
piano for an upright, as have the fire-hearth for the
furnace or hot-water plant. But the saddest of all
is the thought that the girls no longer court on the
long, broad, haircloth sofa I

Another departure nevermore to return is the old-
fashioned spinning-wheel. We see it occasionally done

62 Cherished Memories.

up with flashing dashing ribbon in this or that studio
as an ornament. And now comes to mind the quilting-
frame the size of a billiard table, around which on a
pleasant afternoon a score of good, old motherly
bodies would sit, as stitch by stitch they wove into all
kinds of fantastic designs a coverlet as a "haustire'*
for one of their younger lady friends about to be
launched into the bonds of matrimony, with few
divorces to follow.

Then to keep fingers moving with knitting needles
in the making of socks for the girls and boys! '*0h!
to think of a sixteen-year-old girl of to-day wearing
socks I" Yes, bless you, my dear Miss, this was the
case before the finer manufactured hosiery came into
vogue. No finely woven, richly colored hose in the
middle forties were covered by patent leathers, such as
are at present polished daily in the '* midway" where
the "shiners" reap a richer harvest than the best
of mechanics sixty years ago under a low tariff.

To close this chapter without reference to the boys
who wore kip boots during six months of the year
would be to remain forgetful of the abominable raw-
hides I was compelled to wear during winter, and
which were everlastingly prone to be rubbing the hide
off a young fellow's ankle-bones. Now, in all serious-
ness, for years I could never understand what earthly
use those ankle-bones were intended for, anyway,
except to be rubbed into blisters, needing nightly after
a boot-jack, a solution of goose-grease to relieve the
stinging which the abominable "kips" had caused to
a youngster's anatomy. But, oh my! when morning

My First Kip Boots. 53

came, to be gathering them from under the stove, as the
ordeal of drawing them on began! With forefinger in
strap, what a pulling and twisting, to get them on in
tune for school! Then, with one supreme effort, away
would go the straps as I went tumbling backward
over the wood-chest with feet high in the air.

Ah! but when at last they were hung up in the garret
as nests for the bats, I had my other troubles, one of
which was to keep the toe of my left foot (for I was
left-handed) from eternally coming in contact with the
edge of a loose brick, causing the sufferer to be taking
a hop, skip and jump to relieve the excruciating pain!
Whether my big toe was larger or more misbehaved
than most other boy's, I had never determined out of
the curriculum of text books. And yet, mine was
most of the summer time done up in a piece of the
whitest linen.

Now, as most boys, at least in the country, have
reason to know, this is no imaginary experience. It is
based on my recollection of two brothers who attended
St. James. As we sat on the gallery, I, in my kipsi,
the others in their calf-skins, as it happened, the elder
drew up his trousers when, to my delight as well as to
my envy, what should my eyes behold but a red top.
"Oh, golly!" I blurted out. The next instant as I
cast my eyes in the direction of the pastor, there was
his outstretched finger aimed at the trio of guilty
culprits. And, as I may confess, the impression left
upon my mind, if not upon my conscience, has never
been forgotten. Even while writing of this little epi-
sode, I can in my mind's eye see that uplifted finger.

54 Cherished Memories.

But the kindly smile which followed was the soothing
balm intended to allay the distress under which we
were resting with the eyes of the congregation centered
in the direction of the gallery as they usually are, in-
stead of on the minister. It's well, then, that boys
should have a monitor in the shape of an up-lift finger
pointing in the right direction at the moment they
feel themselves going wrong.

How these two brothers came by their red-top
boots may need a word of explanation: It was along in
the later forties that their father opened the first retail
shoe store for the sale of machine-made boots and
shoes. And as a matter of course, his sons were the
first to make all the kip-boot wearers a little jealous
of their highly polished calf-skin foot wear.

As in those days the rawhides needed an occasional
blacking, the same as do the "patent-leathers" of the
present day a daily polishing, to go in search of a box
of "Mason's" shoe-black, always fell to the boys.
Well, how this article came into general use is to relate
one of the tricks of the trade which, while in no way
to be compared with those of the present day, was none
the less successful.

Gathering a dozen boys together, the advance-agent
started them out in different parts of the town to pur-
chase a box of Mason's blacking. For several days the
racket was kept up without results. Then, later on
came the salesman with the identical article loading
the merchants down with more boxes than they could
dispose of in a month or two. At last, with the demand
in no way equaling the supply, the trick was discovered.

" pappy" 8TROU8E

• '•

The Pesky Modern Shoestrings, 55

However, it gave Mason's blacking a boost, making it
for years a popular shoe polish.

That my love for red-top boots has never departed
is owing, no doubt, to the kind of shoes that have
come to take their place. Buttoned shoes the kind I
used to wear, needing only a hook to button them,
and a good jerk in getting them off, I could tolerate,
until, going out of style, I fell to wearing those with
shoe strings a half a yard in length; this after drawing
a half dozen times around my ankles, I could tie in a
double bow with the little copper ends tucked well
down into the sides of the shoe.

It's what followed on returning a little later than
usual that repeatedly caused me to lose my patience
with the abominable shoestrings! Why, it was
only last evening, along about the hour of twelve,
that my torments began! Finding my way on tip-
toe up the stair for fear of disturbing the family out
of their midnight rest, I went my way feeling along the
side of the hall-walls, and as good luck would have it,
into the nursery. Thus far, I had succeeded admir-
ably in failing to awake even ''Tabby," the house cat.
Throwing off my coat, I sat myself on the lounge and
began to feel 'round in the dark for the ends of the
strings to the shoe of my right foot. Getting a firm
hold of each, I began to pull with the usual result, a
knot and tighter than the noose which hung old man
Haggerty!

For a moment I sat pegging away at the knot until
my finger-nails began to snap off at the ends. Con-
cluding to give the right shoe a rest, I started with

56 Cherished Memories.

the strings of the other, going about it in a scientific,
business-like manner. But lo! I was confronted in
the dark with two knots instead of one! Leaning
still further forward until the top of my derby touched
the floor, I screwed and twisted at the infernal knot.
Strong? Yes, even stronger than the catgut to my
fiddle. Searching 'round for a stray match without
success, I gave way to my temper, and began to swear
vengeance on the head of "old man Strouse" from
whom I had purchased the last pair. Determined not
to awaken the family, I jumped into bed under tick
and feathers. How many nights I may have to under-
go sleeping with my shoes on, rather than to take the
trouble of untying the blasted knots, I may have
occasion to state before the story's completed. And
yet, for a short bed, as I've discovered, shoes are a
preventive against the gout, rheumatism or cramp
in the calves of one's extremities.

Anything wrong with "Pappy" Strause? Bless
you, no! What matters it if for a third of a century
he has peddled shoestrings a yard or more in length;
others before him have done the same with others yet
to follow. Yes; old man Strouse is growing old, the
same with his pipe. So when you meet the honest
peddler, it'll be costing you only three cents for a pair
of shoestrings and maybe something more for a pair
of woolen socks.

At one time " Pappy" Strouse had a rival in Tommy
Hannigan, the quiet, unpretentious citizen we've
known for many a year. That he has sold more
pine wood, in the shape of matches, than all the

TOMMY HANNIOAK

* - • . '^ »

• • •

Georgie LamherVs While Goose, 67

lumber merchants in Lancaster combined, should in
no way provoke a feeling of jealousy against "Tommy,"
who, well up in his three-score, goes from street to
street with basket on arm in the earning of an honest
livelihood. No, it won't do to ignore Tommy; for,
without the lucifer match, all the many house-wives
might be compelled to fall back on the old-time flint
and steel, which, to light a fire, required all of a wo-
man's patience.

Strolling out East King and meeting ''Frank," out
of whom my early teaching made a good plumber, I
was admonished not to forget mention of Georgie
Lambert and his white goose, otherwise it might be
giving mortal offense to the older residents of
"Irishtown," and who, to know Georgie was to love
him for the tender regard he always manifested for
his constant friend and playmate. Following him
from the cooper-shop on Plum street, where it came
regularly on schedule time, the two went their way,
the one waving his white handkerchief, the other,
as if hjrpnotized by Georgie's persuasive gesticulations,
always obeying orders.

Whether this was the same Mr. Gander we left be-
hind over in the old town of Leesburg, we have no
means of knowing; and yet, growing a little home-
sick for our company, it may have followed us to
'*01d Lancaster," eventually finding its way to the
cooper-shop on Plum street. Alas, alas! both Georgie
and his white goose live only as a sweet, fragrant
memory in the hearts of the older generation of the
^'East End."

CHAPTER V.

The State Railroad in the Thirties — Grubey Sam.
Johnny Wilhelm, the Old Engineer, and

Son Charue.

HAVING reached the age of a boy's venturesome
spirit that not even the sleepy night-watchman
could well subdue, my first inclination was to become
a "railroader," not that I was to be employed in any
other capacity than as a "free rider" through the
"deep cut" to the "Big Bridge," the objective point
of our summer-day escapades.

As many of the local shippers had their own cars,
with a small apartment at one end in which the con-
ductor "bunked," a plug of tobacco was sufficient to
secure a seat on the platform or bumper, the red cab
not having as yet come into vogue. As to rules and
regulations, there were none to interfere with what
was known as "the boys' brigade," with conductors
ever kindly disposed to their youthful charge. As
these were the days before the Legislature had passed
the law sending the tresspasser "up" for "ten days"
for doing just nothing but riding on the hind bumper,
oh, glory 1 what a sporting time we boys had in getting
free rides!

Fortunate for the returned Virginian, all I had to
do after breakfast, during vacation days, was to slide
down the steep embankment and there await the
arrival of a train with Sammy Kurtz at the throttle

58

Legislature Authorizes Survey. 59

of the engine. As one of his sons was usually a part
of the "gang," to slow-up in noway rendered him
liable to severe discipline. Of course if, as occasion-
ally happened, a train was made up of "canal-boats"
on their way from tidewater at Columbia to the
Schuylkill, we hadn't any use for them as a resting-
place; about as uncomfortable as has since become
a wire-fence for tired humanity, during the busy
harvest season.

Speaking of the busy harvest season, recalls how,
on a much later occasion, a tramp stopped at a farm-
er's house in search of a job. The morning following,
as he stood leaning over the barb-wire with tears in
his eyes, he exclaimed, "Sorry to be tellin' ye, me
farmer-friend, that I must be leavin' yer employ — "

"Why, why! sorry to be partin' with ye; gittin'
tired livin' on roast beef un' sich like mit a gla vennic
schnaps mit yer midawk essa?"

"No, no! gettin' all to eat any hungry man could
desire. But it's this way, if the truth must be told:
I've been all over your farm, surrounded by wire-
fences, and I've found a wire fence is no place for a
hard-working hired man to be resting durin' th' busy
harvest season."

And it was so with the "boys" out seeking a free
ride, the bumpers of a canal-boat being in noway
adapted for such rides.

Being somewhat of investigating turn, as the years
ran on, I became deeply interested in historical
research; as a result, I was soon to learn that the first
act of the Pennsylvania Legislature relating to rail-

60 Cherished Memories.

roading was to pass a bill to construct a single track
from Philadelphia to Columbia. The road was begun
in 1828, and completed in 1834, over which the
"Black Hawk" made its first trip, reaching Lancaster
from Columbia in fifty-five minutes, fast schedule
time. Leaving the town at 8 a. m., it reached the
incline plane, Philadelphia, at half-past four in the
afternoon, requiring only eight hours to make the
sixty-eight or more miles. Whatever may have
caused an occasional delay, there was no complaining
among the guests, who were royally entertained along
the way by the numerous hotel-keepers.

As we boys had not as yet appeared on terra-firma
to report the speed on the "Black Hawk," a con-
densed account from others must suffice. It needn't
be assumed, however, that the crowds at the various
stations were all enthusiastic admirers of this the
first locomotive to disturb their otherwise peaceful
rest. Oh I bless you, no I Apart from the puffing and
sparks which the smoke-stack emitted, in setting fire
to an occasional bam here and there, it wasn't long
until a cry went forth that the noise of the "shebang"
had actually stopped the hens from laying their usual
quantity of eggs. for Easter coloring. It was further-
more set forth before one of the township squires
that the constant screeching of the whistle had so
played upon the nervous system of their cows as to
prevent them from giving their usual quantity of
milk for butter churning. But as the costs were usu-
ally placed upon the informer, the opposition soon
began to subside.

BUick Hawk, The First Engine. 61

This, however, was not the formal opening of the
single-track road, but rather an experimental trip
made by the owners of the "Black Hawk" in order
to test the engine's endurance. Not proving a suc-
cess, it was withdrawn for others better adapted for
the purpose for which they had been constructed.
How the "Black Hawk" happened to receive its
name, may have been owing to the fact that along
about this time the public mind had become excited
over the atrocities committed by the Indian chieftain,
"Black Hawk," engaged in a war which bore his
name.

There was one other, the "John Bull," of English
design; this engine, with the "Fire Fly" and the
"Red Rover," did little service. All in all, from
1835 to 1840, of the twenty-seven locomotives of
every make and shape, only nine were in operation.
Later, the "Lancaster" and "Columbia" were the
first to meet the road's requirements. Along in '49
or '50, Columbia No. 2 was built, to take the place
of its namesake. Connected with this engine is a
story of thrilling interest to be related as the remin-
iscences continue.

As has already been said, of the first opening of the
road through the "deep-cut" I have no recollection.
But I do recall the "Bald Eagle" and "Enterprise,"
with their two driving wheels, one on either side.
Nor, indeed, were they and others of their kind to be
d^ised on account of their size. For what they
lacked in comparison with the monsters of to-day,
they more than made up in speed, except when pass-

62 Cherished Memories.

ing over the ''long stretch" known as ''Grasshopper
Level," and where, with the "hoppers," covering the
rails, the wheels would go spinning 'round until
brought to a sudden stop.

Apart from these small engines with their brass
trimmings, wooden stringers were stretched along
over sandstone blocks, and to these, strips of wTought
iron three-fourths of an inch in thickness by four in
width were spiked. Occasionally one of these so-called
snakeheads would flare up at the end like a broken
hoop, passing through the underside of a car with
such results as may be imagined.

Later came the small iron "chair," fastened to
stone blocks. In these, an improved design of rail
was held in place by two iron wedges called "keys,"
one on either side. As they were constantly olted
out, it became necessary for the "keydriver," with
his long-handle hammer, to replace them. Each morn-
ing he could be seen on his way from the station to
the big Conestoga bridge, usually requiring a full day
to make the outgoing and return trip.

However, as time ran on, the "chair" and "stone
block" were supplanted by the cross-tie on which is
spiked the present "T" rail. The sandstone blocks
to be seen here and there, with two holes about six
inches apart, were the engineers' greatest annoyance
during the spring, when the frost was almost sure
to throw the rails out of alignment, causing a "run-
off."

And now, after these many years, let us take a
bird's-eye view in portraiture of the passenger sta-

Charles A. Jeffries. 63

tion when the railroad was still under State control,
down to 1857. Over on the southwest comer, wherein
the ''Pioneer-line" billed its passengers for either
Columbia or Philadelphia, stood the ''Globe," kept
by one Owen Hoppel who, in his day, was as well
and favorably known among the railroad men as was
the father of our genial friend, "Wash," who yet
manages to link the present with that of sixty years
ago. In this connection, it was only recently the
writer was shown one of the small blue "checks"
each passenger was required to stick in the ribbon-
band of his hat as an evidence of having paid his
fare.

Among the very few old-time engineers yet living
in the halo of a ripe old age, few have had a wider
experience than the venerable Charles A. Jeffries.
How many times he ran his engine with its load of
humam'ty between Philadelphia and Harrisburg not
he himself can recall. Nor can but a very few of the
present-day readers remember when the first telegraph
office was in the "North American," now the "Im-
perial," on the southeast comer of North Queen and
Chestnut.

In those early days of telegraphing, we boys were
much interested in a story since become a trite. It
seems, as it occurs to our mind, a well-known shoe-
maker of the town, after having finished a pair of
calf-skin boots for one of the elitey concluded that
the quickest way to get them to the owner was to
hang them over the telegraph-wire. Having accom-
plished this to his satisfaction, he quietly awaited the

64 Cherished Memories.

return of the owner with the cash. As it so happened,
along came an Irishman who, glancing up by the light
of the moon, exclaimed: "A fair exchange is no rob-
bery." So off with his rawhides, up the pole he goes,
exchanging the calfskins for his own. Early the
morning following, the shoemaker, stepping to the
door and seeing the old pair dangUng from the wire,
turned to his spouse and said, "Bless ye, me darlin',
if th' wire hasn't been sendin' th' new ones to th'
owner, with th' old ones back to be mended!"

Among the many well-known characters who were
active in the State's employ as railroaders, was a
short-set, stoop-shouldered colored man, by the
name of Samuel Jones, but known to every ten-year-
old boy as "Grubey Sam." For a period of more
than a quarter of a century ''Grubey" had charge of
the United States mail between Columbia and Lan-
caster, and was the only colored man actively em-
ployed in the railway service, even after the road had
been taken over by the Pennsylvania Company.
Smart, alert and as crusty as he was faithful, who
could blame "Grubey Sam," if at times he imagined
he owned the entire line in fee-simple. At the time
when railroading was in its infancy, Columbia was the
recognized headquarters for men who since have reach-
ed a prominent place in the Pennsylvania Company.
And many a little game of poker was indulged in by
the officials in which ''Grubey Sam" usually held the
winning cards, being as apt at "shuffling" the cards
as he was in handling a mail-pouch. And yet with
all "Grube's" eccentricities, he was respected for his

GBUBEY SAM

"Barney'^ as a Boy. 65

honesty and loyalty. At last, at last, like many
another old raUroader, he was compelled to hand in
his "checks" and go the way of all others.

And now of the startling episode: It was in Novem-
ber, 1855, while still State property, that the "Colum-
bia No. 2" exploded at Penningtonville, now Atglen,
kiUing the fireman and landing "Johnny Wilhelm"
across the telegraph wires, from which he rolled down
a forty-foot embankment, escaping with a broken hip
and other minor injuries. Although badly crippled,
he managed for fifteen years thereafter to perform
his duties as engineer.

At the time of which mention is made, there were
two other engineers Uving as neighbors to old
"Johnny," on East Chestnut street, opposite the
Grubb estate — Samuel Kurtz, the only person killed
during the Centennial year of 76, one of whose sons
is still engaged in railroading, the other, Samuel
Rupley, whose four sons, John, Sam, Dan and Charlie,
were among the writer's most intimate acquaintances.

Of the contingent of "thirty-seveners," the great
majority of whom were Lime street bridge devotees,
only a few remain, one of the last to pass away being
the late B. J. McGrann. As a boy we knew him as
a jolly good fellow; as a man, he was the equally
generous host in making all welcome to his rural
homestead. And how could it have been otherwise,
as the son of Richard, one of the old-school Irish
gentlemen, ever kindly disposed toward the boys
out in his extended apple-orchard in search of the
luscious fruit. As a lad, selling "peppermint" to
5

66 Cherished Memories.

the various saloons and hotels, it would have been
an oversight to have passed the McGrann house by;
where the Malones, Kelleys, McGoverns, Reillys and
others of their day, loved to congregate in a familiar
chat over the events of the day. Yes, this group of
high-toned, Irish contractors, who drank their toddy
together to the health of "James B.," were at all
times known for their loyalty to the good old De-
mocracy.

Then there was "Freddy," the scholar, who still
lives beloved by all who know him. It was he who
used to call 'round at our house for a glass or two
of our mother's mead, and a few of her fasnachts,
which, when turned out of the frying-pan, were even
more delicious than Mammy Gruel's sugar-cakes with
a big raisin in the center. But to relieve my mind,
as I recall those happy days, "Freddy" had a rival
in his young friend "Guss," the artist, who later
carved the two lions which for years stood before the
North Queen street entrance of the Howell marble
works. Changed a little, of course, the one residing
in Harrisburg, the other in this city, both have man-
aged to preserve their youthful vigor midway between
the seventies and eighties.

Besides "Freddy" and "Augustus," there were four
"Charlies," only two of whom are living, Charlie
Wemtz and Charlie Wilhelm. Of the former there
were five generations of blacksmiths — his great-grand-
father, grandfather, father, and besides himself, a
son, both actively engaged at bellows and anvil, cov-
ering a period of more than a century and a half.

Passing of the Willow Pond, 67

Charlie Wilhelm, the son of "Old Johnny," is re-
membered by very few, residing, as he has been for
many years, in the city of Hamsburg as a retired
employee of the Pennsylvania Railroad Company.
As boys we played together, followed the winding
course of the Conestoga from Binkley^s bridge to the
old water-works. And since, with the shadow of
age coming on, it's been our pleasure to retrace those
steps of more than sixty years ago. And oh! what
sweet reminders did this last stroll suggest. Unking old
age with early youth!

For a time we crept cautiously along the water's
edge, then further up the hillside, zigzagging our way
along with the September's sun up among the eighties.
But what mattered it, we had become boys again,
with all the spirit of adventure of our youthful days.
If the sycamores seemed as of yore, the stately oaks
and hickories which not so many years before gave
"Cedar Hill" its rugged appearance, are no more,
with only here and there a lone sentinel to mark the
spot where the "picnickers" used to wend their way
to "What Glen," for a day's outing. And here it
may be asked why our young friend "Frank" built
his beautiful residence on this high elevation? Only,
no doubt, to keep in touch with "Dame Nature," in
preserving recollections of the homestead, a mile or
two eastward along the pike, now in possession of
his brother Richard.

Ah! but the sycamores! they alone with the elm,
cedar, ash and willow seem to have escaped the
woodman's axe, containing, as many of them do, the

68 Cherished Memories.

initials, cut thereon by the boys of six decades ago.
To these, perchance, hardiest of nature's two-century-
old trees, with their rootlets buried deep down under
the Conestoga's rocky bed, we pay tribute in the
name of all old men — once boys — who in their youth
made them their summer-day companions.

Turning from the upper Conestoga, we have an-
other regret, the passing of the " Willow Pond," where,
beneath the willows stood the "spring," with its cold,
sparkling water, as it went its way trickling along
until lost in the Conestoga.

Growing a little sentimental over the loss of the
Willow Pond? Well, for the man without sentiment,
who never can unlock the storehouse of memory,
we have only commiseration. Dull, indeed, must
life be to the aged who, tired of the present, with
no bright earthly prospects for the future, have no
past, no pleasant memories of other days!

But how delightful then to go bathing at the "Big
Stump," so close by the "Big Bridge!" And here a
flood of recollections comes surging at the portals of
memory. If one historic spot outside of the town's
limits is deserving of being remembered, it is the
"Big Stump," still resting, as I am informed, below
the water's surface. As few had their private bath-
tubs during the forties and fifties, this familiar bath-
ing spot was the resort to which hundreds would go
during Saturdays and Sundays to bathe in the pure,
limpid waters of the Conestoga where many a swim-
ming contest went on. It was here, at the "Big
Stump," where Henry, "Buff" Markee lost his life.

''Mortality Joe.'' 69

Fishing at the big buttonwood! Well, it was a cold
day when old "Mortality Joe" couldn't be seen sitting
there with his four long poles. If occasionally he
failed to return with a string of catties less than a
yard long, there was something wrong, either with
the hook or bait. Meeting him at sunrise, it was
fun for the boys to ask, "Where are the worms, Joe?"
And his reply, "W-o-m-s, w-o-m-sl" as his cheeks
bulged out, indicating where he usually kept his stock
in trade. However, instead of carrying his bait where
the teasers had imagined, and where a chew of tobacco
served a better purpose, Joe's ill-luck in bringing home
a string was usually attributed to his failure to pro-
vide himself with a "plug," the juice of which, when
applied to the worms, always had a soothing effect
on the risibilities of the finny tribe.

And now, to draw certain conclusions fi'om Joe's
course of procedure, the habit of tobacco-chewing
among all fishermen down to the present day is not
so much for the pleasure it affords all anglers, as for
the alluring effect the juice has ever had when applied
to the worm, and likewise on the nervous systems of
the catties, in particular. And here, let all anglers
take advice.

Apropos to the foregoing, as another fisherman's
yam, it used to be said that among the many fish-
peddlers who went their way toward the Susquehanna
at a time when the shad and herring industry was
most profitable, was one Jessie Bently, a tall, raw-
boned peddler, who usually drove a pair of slab-sided
quadrupeds, one of which, as ill-luck would have it,

70 Cherished Memories.

fell dead. Stopping at a farm house for what he most
needed, another mate to the off-mare, he caught a
glimpse of the farmer's blind "hoss" grazing away in
the meadow. Stepping up to Farmer Jeremiah, he
turned and said, after explaining his dilemma, " W-all,
Farmer Jere, how would ye like swappin' yer blind
mare fur a load o' 'saltin'-down' fur yer winter use?'*

"Kind uf denxt it wouldn't be a bad swap pro-
vidin' we kin' gree on der number un' size. Ye see,"
with a wink of his left eye, "dem mit more bones 'an
meat, I'll be sendin' iver to der bishop, mit plenty
uf time to be pickin' der bones."

"Jis' o' my way o' thinkin', Jeremiah. But ye
must recoUec' there be all kind o' fishes in th' river,
shad, herrin', catties, mullets, horn-chubs, perch,
sunnies, wall-eyed pike, eels, an' a few spreckled trout,
an' this bein' so, ye'll have to take 'em as they run,
as they run, Farmer Jeremiah, an' don't ye forget what
Pm tellin' ye!''

With this understanding that Jere was to take
them as they run, Jesse starts with the blind mare
for the fishing banks, only to return at least a half-
dozen times with a full supply of shad and herring,
but never once did he stop to give Farmer Jeremiah
even a smell of his weekly catch.

It was well toward the close of the shad-fishing season
that Jere, growing suspicious as to receiving his supply
of "saltin's-down," started hot-foot for the river,
and meeting the peddler, as he was about returning
with a load, exclaimed, "Kensht der me nicht? Ich
bien der Jeremiah HoUfus."

The Big Bndge and Big Stump. 71

" W-aU, what can I do fur ye, Mr. HoUfus?" Wait-
ing a reply, "Did I promise ye any fishes?"

"Uf 'cose, uf 'cose yer did; said der be alia kind
uf fishes in der river, sume large, sume small, un' that
I wus to nem 'em as da run; but up to present time
der Farmer Jeremiah hesn't hed a chance to take
'em, big or small."

"Seems, Farmer Jere," in deep study, "that some-
thin' was said 'bout yer takin' 'em as they run, an'
this bein' th' case, there's th' river, there they run;
take as many as ye please 'fore th' shad-season
closes."

Stories like this and others were always in place
around the sycamore, where the fishermen used to
congregate, at a time before the anglers, with their
jointed rods and reel, made this their summer retreat
in fishing for the gamy bass.

But to the "Big Bridge," so close by the "Big
Stump!" And here it may be said how few have
but the slightest recollection of this covered structure
extending in length over fourteen hundred feet from
the Conestoga which it crossed over to the farm-
buildings on the opposite side. To the average boy
it was something of a curiosity to see the engineer
pull down the smoke-stack before entering. First
used as a drive-way for horses instead of locomotive,
the floor between the rails was dust-covered to the
depths of five inches, no doubt to give tbe horses'
feet a better footing, or maybe, to avoid vibration.
At intervals were barrels of water, in case of emergency.
To say that on occasions certain of the trains were met

72 Cherished Memories,

by a living quadruped, known as ''The Landis Bull,"
may have been a story handed down as tradition.
And yet, in my boyhood, live stock was only too com-
mon along the tracks, not a few being compelled to
pay the penalty for their rashness.

It so happened, however, that, in '50, '51 or '52,
the bridge went up in smoke. Although I, among
others, was present at the time of its destruction, it
would seem impossible to fix the exact date when this
lengthy structure was destroyed. As neither of the
watchmen, Robert Conyngham nor John Stehman,
is living to bear testimony, other data must be
awaited.

Close by the bridge, to the left, on a bluff, stood
the '* Spook House," presenting as forlorn an appear-
ance as it was possible for any ten-year-old youngster
to imagine. And few there were, after hearing
stories occurring within, could be persuaded to enter
after twilight had set in. By whom it was built and
occupied before the boys had riddled its window-
panes, are questions for the Lancaster County His-
torical Society to determine.

Superstitions of those days were not confined alone
to the boys; older heads were at all times ready to
indulge themselves in such gruesome stories of demons,
hobgoblins and other spectres as to make the average
boy almost afraid to venture by a graveyard after
night had set in. We well recall how as a lad we went
hurrying by the high brick wall leading from St. James
to Cherry street, built, as we were told, to keep the
spirits of the departed well inside the enclosure.

An Animated Stiff. 73

Recalling hangman's day and the potter-field; who,
five decades ago, could have persuaded anyone to
locate in front of any of these burial grounds! And
even down to later years, how nerve-racking the story
of how three medical students went in search of a
"stiflf," and disappointed in their search, loaded
one of their own three into a wagon, telling the driver
where to unload his charge. Covered with a white
spread, on, on the colored man drove in Rockland
street, with the other two following at a safe dis-
tance as witnesses of the scene so soon to materialize.

For a time, all was as quiet as the old graveyard
beyond; then came heavy breathing from under
the white spread. "Only the wind playing its
pranks," grumbled the colored driver, glancing back
over his shoulder, as he gave the nag a slight touch
of the lash. And yet the faster he drove the more life
his unearthly demon seemed to manifest. Suddenly,
and without warning, up 'rose "Mr. Ghost" in its
white robes, ready to embrace the old darkey, who,
dropping the lines, leaped from the wagon, and with
an unearthly yell that sent the echoes flying, started
at a double-quick homeward-bound. "Hi, ho! and
where are you going?" came the voice of the sup-
posed "stiff," throwing off the thin disguise, as the
old darkey turned for an instant and replied, "Fer
de Lord's sake, boss, des am no place fur a respec'ful
culled pusson wid a family ub seben childrens to be
caught prowlin' 'roun' wid ebil spirits, scarin' old
Mose to be losin' his 'librium!" And never after-
wards could the old colored driver be found within a
nule of any burying-plot after night had set in.

74 Cherished Memories.

Referring to medical students, recalls a few of the
old-time family doctors of my boyhood, one of whom
used to enter our home with the worst-smelling, the
worst-tasting mixture ever concocted by an apothe-
cary's clerk. He was usually recognized before en-
tering the sick room by a way he had of sniflSng the
air for fear a window or a door had been left ajar.
Stepping quietly to the sick one's bedside, with suf-
ficient solemnity to send the patient's pulse either
up among the nineties or down to zero, he would
remove his gloves, unbutton his long-tail coat and
prepare for the diagnosis.

Glancing with a knowing shake of the head at his
subject, he would call for a tin spoon, and after jam-
ming it down the throat in the region of the stomach,
draw it out with a deep yawn. Taking the patient's
wrist in his vice-like grip, he would count the pulsa-
tions and start to compounding the abominable mix-
ture of calomel jalap. Leaving directions of how
many teaspoonfuls were to be taken within a given
time, he would make diligent inquiry of what the
patient had been eating or drinking. If it happened
to be a feast or a famine, the reply was always the
same.

Indulging himself in a glass or two of old gin to
steady his nerves, he would dilate on total abstinence
as a panacea for all the ills common to humanity the
world over. After adjusting his gloves, and another
glance at the sick one, he would promise to call the
morning following, which from his look might be
taken as a slight hint that if he didn't call himself,

The First Telegraph Poles. 75

Harry Stiff, the grave-digger, would be summoned
to get the exact size of his grave, with the undertaker
at no great distance awaiting the practitioner's exit
from the sick room.

But these old-time doctors had their uses, if they
had their abuses. And never once were they known
to recommend a liver-pad, nor to hurry a patient off
at a double-quick to be operated on for the appendicitis
when a more careful diagnosis might have resulted
in nothing more than a spell of acute indigestion.

But to get away from doctors, except when occa-
sion requires, it is more pleasing to get back to the
Lime Street bridge, where, in '45, the first telegraph
pole was planted, at the northwest comer. "Charlie"
and I had been standing close by the "digger" looking
deep down into the excavation with the youngster's
curiosity, when my more inquisitive young friend
ventured to ask what he was doing. "Only digging
a hole to put nosey boys like yourselves in." And
as we weren't sure to which of the two he referred,
we weren't long in beating a hasty retreat. And this
recalls one other occasion, when Harry Stiff was
asked what he proposed doing with the surplus earth,
he replied, with a squint of the eye, "Dig another
hole to put it in."

Referring to the first telegraph line passing along the
railroad from Philadelphia to Columbia, it may not be
generally known that the oldest telegraph operator in
the United States, William Johnson, is living in this
city, now in his seventy-ninth year.

CHAPTER VI.

Rafting on the Susquehanna — Lancaster's

Growth — Congestion in Central

Part — Its Mayors.

AS a purely historical sketch, apart from the narra-
tive to follow, a few notable events occurring
during the past two centuries may be mentioned by
way of acquainting certain readers with the founding
of Lancaster, in 1730. Falling back on the records
which have been handed down from remote times,
it was in the year 1729 that the mother counties of
Chester, Philadelphia and Bucks gave without price
all that fertile domain extending westward from
their own boundaries to the Ohio, to the new-bom
county of Lancaster, a name given by that invincible
Quaker, John Wright, in honor of his own home, Lan-
cashire, England. Settling in Chester county, in 1714,
in 1729 he removed to Wright's Ferry (now Columbia),
on the Susquehanna, where the name Wright has
ever been held in fond remembrance.

And yet as generously as had these counties parted
with the territory westward of their present limits,
so, in after years, Lancaster county gave sufficient
of her broad acres to constitute some sixty odd other
counties, all of which have grown great and prosperous.
That our forefathers reserved sufficient of this
"garden-spot" for those who in after years might
make it their abiding place, should in no way provoke
a spirit of envy among the dwellers of the other part

76

9

Columbia Recommended as County Seal. 77

of the great Commonwealth of Pemisylvania. For,
after all, we are one people, cemented by the common
bonds of love and good fellowship, ever ready to
revere the memory of William Penn as among the
greatest of all the great men who first set foot on
America's soil.

In taking a retrospective glance over all the other
settlements, not to overlook the Pilgrim Fathers who
settled on Plymouth Rock, in 1620, history fails to
record in the deeds of man those that have borne
better fruit than the seed that was sown on the shores
of the Delaware by this goodly Quaker Penn, in 1682.
Happy, then, for those who can say, "We were bom
on Pennsylvania soil." To act in accordance with
the precepts laid down by Penn so many years ago,
is to live the life of peace, comfort, happiness. And
now to foUow the lines we have mapped out, it is
hoped a thought here and there may awaken a deeper
love for our city and county, in no way to the detri-
ment of other sections of this ''land of promise."

At the time following the separation, a commission
of three was named to determine the most suitable
location for the seat of Justice. Wright's Ferry,
around which hangs a romance, seeming to possess
certain advantages on account of its proximity to
the Susquehanna, a strong wooden jail was erected
by the Wrights as the first step in recommending the
"Ferry" as the capital of the new-bom county. And
but for the fact that, even at that early day, it was
apparent to the best engineering skill that the river
could never be made navigable for the commerce of

78 Cherished Memories,

the world, Columbia might at this day be one of the
most important cities of the Commonwealth of Penn-
sylvania. Indeed, for many years thereafter, every
effort was put forth looking to this one end and aim.
Nearly a century ago, Simon Cameron was one of a
commission to determine the possibility of making
this rugged water-course navigable; and if we mis-
take not, the verdict was that a hundred million dol-
lars would not cover the cost. Apart from this, how-
ever, it should be remembered that the Susquehanra
for more than a century was the highway over which
thousands of rafts went their way to tidewater.
Then canaling before the time of railroads had given
all these river towns for hundreds of miles such a boom
as few other parts of the state had known. But, alasl
with the construction of the McCall's Water-Power
plant and the robbing of the mountain sides of their
timber, the activity of this once mighty highway of
traffic is destined to live only in the memory of the
oldest riverman.

To give the reader some idea of the river's flourish-
ing condition, history records that during a three-
months' freshet no less than three thousand arks
and flat-boats went their way during the short space
of ninety days, loaded with all kinds and variety of
merchandise.

But even at the time of the separation of our county,
Wright's Ferry had its rival in Postlewhaite's, an
Indian settlement located nearly a dozen miles further
down, at a point some distance up the Conestoga,
nearby what is now known as Rock Hill. Here was

City's Area Unchanged, 79

located a tavern presided over by one Postlewhaite,
in which courts were held for a short time, or until
1730, when something occurred to throw a damper
over the spirits of the few dwellers of this then much-
favored point. That at least one defendant was
tried and convicted to serve time in the crude prison
the records bear ample testimony.

However, along at the time the commissioners were
divided in their opinions as between Postlewhaite's
and Wright's Ferry, Governor Hamilton appeared on
the scene offering a number of plots, all within the
present limits of the city of Lancaster.

Omitting the names of the various sites, it may be
said that nearby the present Penn Square, one Gibson
kept "open house" with a large hickory tree before
the door. And it was under this historic tree that
the red men of the forest met to ply their trade with
the white traders, resulting in the tribe being called
"Hickory Indians." And here it may be said that
our first recollection of this famous tree was while
visiting the museum at the comer of North Queen
and Chestnut. Entering the upper story, we were
shown a walking-stick made out of a portion of the
Gibson hickory tree. Taking into account how ready
many of Lancaster's most intelliegnt citizens have
been since that early day to accept as truthful this or
that promoter's scheme with "millions" in it, I as
a growing lad was excusable for looking upon this
cane with a certain delight and curiosity.

Apart from the many changes time has wrought,
with a few of the town's streets undergoing change,

80 Cherished Memories.

in one respect Lancaster remains the same as when
the first general survey was made, nearly one hundred
and eighty years ago, fixing the town's status within
its present two miles square. And this brings the
thought, that within our recollection, but one effort
was made to enlarge the city's boundaries. That it
failed to materialize was owing to various reasons
not necessary to enumerate, except to say that if the
people of Lancaster failed to manifest more interest
in the project started by a number of rural dwellers,
it was owing largely to that conservatism which, in
the good old days of their forefathers, was one of
their cardinal principles — to hold fast to the customs,
habits and traditions of their ancestors. This habit
of moving along conservative lines cannot be attributed
to a lack of public spirit, especially when contrasted
with that of the many "mushroom" towns, at all times,
only too ready to assume the dignity of a growing
municipality with few of the corresponding qualities
to warrant the "spread." \

And yet in the opinion of many there are two ex-
tremes — ^too close centralization, on the one hand,
and too wide expansion on the other. Whether Lan-
caster has reached either of these extremes is the
problem that will have to be met at no distant day.
It is not going too far to say that a city that could
comfortably house a population of twenty thousand
thirty years ago, may be entirely too small to house
oiie of sixty thousand ten years- hence.

On this question of expansion it is not our pur-
pose to pass judgment pro or con. And yet if we may

Advantage of the "Square*' Questionable. 81

judge from the congestion the "Square" has assumed
in being the town's "hub," with the trolley unloading
its hundreds of passengers daily at this much-favored
point, the conclusion reached is, that the business
men in possession of these commercial sites will oppose
any move for a "Greater Lancaster," should it prove
detrimental to their own financial interests. For-
tunate for the dwellers residing within hailing distance
of our magnificent Soldiers' Monument, and equally
unfortunate for those residing along the outer "rim,"
it may be a question whether, after all, a public
"Square" is equally advantageous alike to all of a
city's citizens. With the price of real estate soaring
skyward, the time must come in the inevitable course
of events when a very few blocks of our leading thor-
oughfares can no longer support the thousands who
flock to the city on all notable occasions. These
timely reflections, however, may well be left to the
learned, wise, serious and well-educated citizens to
ponder over at their leisure.

In going a step further, without posing as critic or
fault-finder, the question suggests itself. Is Lancas-
ter, in the future as in the past', to grow largely of its
own momentum, wherein personal greed and selfish-
ness have ever been the rule? What is its status,
commercially, moraUy, intellectually and socially?
As to the town's social and intellectual life, it needs
no defender, standing as it ever has in the vanguard
of all the other cities of the Keystone state. To
prove that it has always claimed this distinguished
honor, it will only be necessary to glance back at its
6

82 Cherished Memories.

long line of honorable citizens, noted at home as well
as abroad for their social and intellectual qualities,
especially in extending a welcome hand to all visitors
stepping within her gates. And yet, it must not be
forgotten that of the city's present population, only
a limited few of our progressive business men remain
as descendants of those who a half century ago held
the balance of power. As the census is likely to show,
the active business men not to the manner bom are
largely in the majority and will so continue. It is
only doing entire justice to credit them with a desire
to see the city of their adoption move upward and
onward to its true destiny.

Only too frequently has it been said that Lancaster
is lacking in that preponderance of "get-up," such
as has marked the progress of other cities scarcely
heard of when "Old Lancaster'' was the largest inland
town in the United States. But as the size of a town's
status in square miles bears little comparison to that
of its inner life, we still claim a preponderance of
intelligence dating back a good many years. How-
ever, it will not do to live in the past, nor to point to
the time when Congress sat for a single day in the
old court house. As much as we may delight in
recalling Washington's and Lafayette's visits, as
well as other memorable events to follow, these belong
to byegone days and can in no way enter into the city's
future growth and development, except as a glorious,
fragrant memory.

Passing over that lengthy period embraced within
1730 and 1818, the year the borough became a munici-

John Passmore, the Weighty and Witty Mayor, 83

pality under its new charter, it is from the following
ninety-two years that a few "crumbs swept up" may
be gleaned, showing the slow progress made by the
town during these long intervening years.

It was in the memorable year 1818 that John Pass-
more became the city's first chief magistrate. Know-
ing little of his mental powers other than as an in-
imitable story-teller, it is to be hoped that these were
on a par with his physical, weighing, as tradition says,
something over four hundred pounds avoirdupois
on the town's steelyards. Beyond his proportions
as one of the town's ''heavy-weights," little has been
handed down to posterity other than that the frame
of the doorway had to be removed before his remains
could be conveyed to their last resting-place. Nor
have we any evidence to show that any of his succes-
sors in office were equally weighty, physically.

One thing to his credit, as rumor runs, he was the
first of the town's story-tellers, with numerous others
to follow. And here it may be asked, what can be
more enjoyable than to sit in company with a friend
with the store-house of memory awakened to the
recollections of by-gone events? We may have read
by the hour of his pleadings at the bar, but when
brought into his presence as he dilates on his own
observations and personal experiences, we are over-
come with a consciousness that all book-lore is but
dross by comparison. Thus it has ever been that
the unwritten stories when narrated by the versatile
story-teller are so apt to hold us spell-bound. We
know not why, other than it is this one touch of
nature that makes the world akin.

84 Cherished Memories.

And now as memory recalls the long list of these
goodly magistrates, it can be said we knew all more
or less intimately from '43 to this year 1910, some
as a boy in giving the mayor's office a wide range.
And what a splendid type of old-time gentlemen they
were, the last of the period before the war being none
other than the venerable George Sanderson, who
served from '59 till '68. Giving them due credit,
their highest ambition seemed to be to keep the town's
valuation and tax-rate to the minimum. In the per-
formance of this laudable purpose, all other short-
comings were kindly overlooked by their constituents.
The oversight that, without an equal assessment and
an adequate tax rate, no city can grow more beautiful
and healthful, seldom disturbed their equanimity.

It is safe to assume, as we look the town of more
than a half century over, that sentiment played but a
small part in its growth. Dating back to the time
the first log house was built, there was always a
struggle; and it was under this stress of adversity
that the town grew rather of its own momentum than
through any preconcerted action on the part of the
citizens. At no time, until recent years, were the
well-to-do disposed to set apart a legacy for the
making the city more artistically beautiful.

As a result of reconciling differences of opinion, the
ballot was resorted to, each party shaping its policy
to catch the votes of the discontented with prevailing
conditions. As the newspaper has always been the
medium through which the masses have been reached,
right and justice were not at all times resorted to for

Electing a Mayor. 85

the sake of the principle involved. In fact, every
effort to inaugurate a non-partisan system of local
government has proved a failure, as being incompat-
ible with the idea upon which rests the bulwark of our
liberty. If a governor or a president is to be elected,
the voters at a municipal election are admonished to
stand loyally by their party's ticket, apart from such
consequences as may result to the city as a munici-
paUty.

It was at the close of the Civil War, in '69, that
William Augustus Atlee was elected, serving one
single term of two years. Being a magistrate with
high ideals, his attempt to enforce a few of the slum-
bering ordinances brought him into conflict with a
number of his own supporters, who shook their heads
in opposition to any departure from long-established
customs.

With the close of his admnistration, the rotation
in oflice went merrily on, with Democrat following
Republican and vice versa, almost down to the present
day. And what a glorious time for the newspapers
as the battle for supremacy continued. And after the
victory was won, what a grand walk-around with the
band playing "There'll be a hot time in the old town
to-night."

We know all about it; we've been there; stood at
a voting precinct during hail, snow or rain, pleading,
beseeching for the success of our mayoralty candidate,
whom we had reason to believe knew as little of the
science of municipal government as he knew of a
Worthington pump. But all the same we hurrahed

86 Cherished Memories.

with the "old coon'' at the head of the column of the
successful newspaper, with the defeated over the
way going up ''Salt River" on one of the boy-Fulton's
flat-bottom scows. Fun! why, bless me, there's been
more right-down fun during a city election than at a
lawyers' picnic — at least for the hurrah boys.

But there's the other side to the picture to be seen
on inauguration day with the "ward-workers" flock-
ing 'round for the "plums." And what rejoicing
among the successful, what heart-aches among the
disappointed! It's not going too far to say that
could the history of each administration be written
from the time of the weighty John Passmore to the
present Mayor, the concensus of opinion would be
that they were all swayed more or less by political
expediency, in which serving the party in power in-
volved a higher duty than that of educating the
voters up to a higher standard of poUtical economy.
What the result might have been could county, state
and national politics have been divorced from purely
local affairs may well be left to the intelligent citizen,
high and low, rich and poor.

With none but the kindUest feeUngs for Lancaster's
twenty-three chief magistrates, it might seem like an
act of discourtesy to ask to which should be given
the greatest credit for the lasting good accruing to the
city in proportion to length of service. However, as
only seven out of the whole number are known to be
living, to expect these to pass judgment on the acts
of their predecessors or successors, as well as on their
own stewardship, might not be considered a breach of

The Spoils System. 87

eitquette on the part of the young-old "thirty-
sevener" in noway disposed to hold them responsible
as the exponents of a system as deplorable in its results
as it is wrong in principle.

Patronage! it's been the motive power that has
kept all cities astir — everybody seems to be looking
after patronage. Even a few of our high-toned busi-
ness men reformers have not been averse to turning
in on election day, provided a few of the "loaves and
fishes" be parceled out as a reward for services ren-
dered in getting the '*boys" into line. Truly, munici-
pal government for, by and of the people, if not at all
times for their direct benefit, is a wonderful system
when contrasted with that of a private corporation
which, were it to attempt to succeed along similar
lines, would drift into hopeless bankruptcy.

With such diversity of opinion as prevails among
the voters whose political proclivities differ as one
star differs from another, it has often been surprising
how much has been accomplished by councils. As a
councilman of nearly twenty years' experience, entire
justice compels the writer to declare that he has never
known an instance where the people haven't at all
times received more than they deserved from their
public servants, considering the fact that nine voters
out of ten are more interested in serving a friend,
be he contractor, newspaper or business man, than the
city, on the principle, that he who serves a friend best,
serves the city best. It's the old, old story, dating
back beyond our recollection, that to the victor be-
longs the spoils — ^the "plums" that annually fall from

88 Cherished Memories.

the municipal tree. Great problems have hitherto
been submitted to councihnen for which they are little
adapted by training or education to work out a solu-
tion, with less attention paid in the selection of
entirely capable men as representatives than was
paid in the olden time to the election of a town con-
stable.

And this leads to the query contained in a leading
newspaper: "Are the people of all the leading cities
so helpless as to need a 'strong hand' to intervene
between them and their representatives by way of
instructing them how to act in the discharge of their
official duties?" This is a question we prefer to leave
to the wise and serious for a solution. However, it
may be said that this "strong hand" should at all
times be the city's chief magistrate. And yet, if we
mistake not, such a strong hand has not at all times
been supported by public opinion, even though he
has shown himself to look upon the office as a "public
trust."

Of one thing we feel entirely sure, that no charge of
"graft" has even been publicly entered against any-
one of Lancaster's twenty-three chief magistrates;
nor if made could it have been sustained. That all
have not measured up to the standard of a Mayor
Gajmor, may be admitted. And now to close this
somewhat gratuitous chapter, what support is the
public, without regard to political affiliations, ready
to extend to the recently-elected mayor? That he
is eminently qualified by long and varied experience
to prove himself a most worthy servant of the people

City's Approaching Anniversary. 89

few will attempt to deny. So let there be united
action among all shades of party fealty in giving
Lancaster's twenty-fourth chief magistrate a generous
support on the principle that a city the size of Lancas-
ter cannot longer remain in statu quo; it must either
move backward or forward. And as forward is the
watchword of all cities, Lancaster should be no ex-
ception for the good and suflBcient reason that it isn't
so many years until the old town's hundredth anni-
versary will be celebrated; and when the year 1918
comeS; even the pessimists and ''knockers" will want
to turn optimists.

And yet, of all the cities in the Commonwealth of
Pennsylvania, "Old Lancaster" is the best.

CHAPTER VII.

Installation of the Water Works — President

Taylor in Lancaster.

PASSING from the preceding chapter, not without
a sense of such diversity of opinion as its contents
may create, we ask the reader to dwell for a time over
the memorable events which occurred in 1837, the
most glorious of all the months of the calendar-year.
It is Washington's birthday anniversary; for months
previous the people of the staid old town were on the
tip-toe of expectancy over two projects that were to
start the young municipality on its onward course of
unexampled prosperity. The Lancaster Intelligencer
had just printed the advertisement found on the follow-
ing page.

If this characteristic "card" of through travel by
rail, stage and boat to the far-off city of Pittsburg
required several days to make the journey seventy-
three years ago, imagine an express train speeding
along to-day at forty miles per hour.

The first and most important of the two events,
from a local standpoint, is yet to be related. The
people had arisen on this twenty-second of February,
1837, at an earlier hour than had been their usual
custom; some rejoicing, others lamenting lest they be
suddenly swept from terra-firma by the bursting of
the new reservoir, or by a torrent from a disjointed
water main leading to the "Square."

Gathering in groups, some remain at home to pro-

90

Diversity of Opinion.

tect their families from the supposed inundation,
others go their way to the "Old City Mill" to see the

aXFRSSe 7A0T-LX17a.

OFFICE.

Pitltfmrg, tiivairti itar

THIS LINK 1

wheels go 'round
as the water is
being forced up the
steep incline of the
"Poor House" hill
leading to the new
storage reservoir.
Diversity of opin-
ion prevailed, some
arguing that no Fv riubdt^..
power under heav- '^t'Z^-J^
en could "lift" a
body of water up
and over the " hill
without a reaction,
others still that the
beautiful Conesto-
ga would run dry
during the summer
months, and still
others, that the
basin was sure to
explode when filled
to overflowing, and
burst it did later,
that on the north
Edde through faulty
construction, and
still later, on the south side, through neglect

)w1ed([td iiiefil Br-

THE BOATS

92 Cherished Memories.

ting down the pumps after the reservoir had been
filled, causing the water to run down over the em-
bankment.

But, withal, the day passed as the water came to
the very center of the city. And oh I what rejoicing
when it gushed through the plugs: the victory had
been won, putting to shame the pessimists. And now,
as we look back over these more than seventy years,
what mistakes have been made! How much ink and
paper wasted by editors I How much diversity of
opinion, not to speak of the money lost in experiment-
ing!

Of course, at the time, the autobiographer was only
six days old, and couldn't imbibe more than a few
draughts of what the "pull-backs" declared was sure
to increase the death rate a hundred-fold yearly. And
yet, as an example, we live to bear witness that no
deleterious effects have followed, especially since the
"filter plant" has been in operation, for all of which
the washer-women can only be too thankful. Prior
to the installation of this beneficent plant, a few of
our citizens may have mixed the "red soil" of the
Conestoga with a little something stronger to neutral-
ize what one old gentleman still believes is necessary
to perfect digestion and assimilation — a small quantity
of Berks county's red soil.

However, unpleasant as is the reminder, it was half
a century later when the college reservoir, at a cost of
over a hundred thousand dollars, exploded. As to
the wisdom of the construction of this the "people's
folly," public sentiment was divided. It was a long

Soldiers' Fair. 93

drawn-out contest. And yet, withal, what a blessing
has the Conestoga been to the people of Lancaster!

Another event worthy of mention occurred likewise
on Washington's birthday anniversary, twenty-seven
years later, the opening of the "Soldiers' Fair" in Ful-
ton Hall, in 1864, from which was realized a munificent
sum by the ladies of Lancaster, which amount, as we
have been informed, was the first step looking to the
erection of our magnificent Soldiers' Monument, com-
pleted along in 1874.

It is well we should not forget the heroic service of
the Grand Army boys, as determined in peace as they
were in war, and under whose auspices the fair was
held. And yet without the unselfish devotion which
the women of Lancaster extended during an entire
week to this great cause, the ''Square" might be
without this historic monument, so emblematic of the
days of '61, when the best of our young manhood
went forth to protect their country's flag. Other than
what the newspapers contained at the time of its
erection, we have seen no extended account of those
who were the active moving spirits in this most worthy
enterprise. Soon all who were prominent in its con-
ception will have passed from life's busy stage, with
only the four sentinels standing as emblems in recall-
ing the eventful happenings of nearly a half century
ago.

The following amusing incident shows how these
four granite sentinels were misunderstood by a Lehigh
county lady, who, after passing from one to the other,
eyeing each carefully, remarked to her friend, in her

94 Cherished Memories.

Dutch dialect, "Ich denxt cella mons be der alta
time apostles/'

Referring again to the old reservoir, we must not
forget the passing of the town pump and what was at
the time known as the '* bucket brigade." In this
extended line, as a well-filled bucket went from hand
to hand to the crude hand-engine, then back empty
along another, were merchants, doctors, lawyers,
preachers — all classes only too ready and willing to
take a hand when a conflagration threatened the
town.

Linking the present with the past, may yet be seen
standing on a shelf in the well-known tobacco store of
the Demuth brothers, a long row of hats or helmets
worn by the firemen at a time before the paid depart-
ment came to take the place of the volunteer system.
Directly opposite, on another shelf, are two well-pre-
served ''leather buckets," grim reminders of bygone
days. If then, all praise is due the firemen of to-day,
equal tribute must be accorded the memory of the
"volunteers" of "ye olden time," for their bravery,
all without pay or hope of future reward.

What mattered if the members of the "Sun,"
"Union," "Friendship," "Shiffler" and a few others
got themselves into a little offensive and defensive
warfare, all for the glory that might result to the
victor!

But there were other troubles along in the middle
forties apart from the Millerite scare, in which a cer-
tain Lancasterian mounted an improvised platform
in his back yard, dressed in white robe, waiting to be

i^P

For the receptioD of His ExeelleDcy, the
On Friday evening, August 10, 1849

TRUMPETER MOUNTED.

CHICr MAJUHAL. AUN.

*• I Mi^. Gen. Geo. Ford. { STV^iiT''^

AMiMut MankaL BMraiY r. BB.<U»ICT.

tcMrt-ol* ChiMU M HoriMKjdi. dreMrd lu MWxwt :-.BUck coal wUk Mu ribbM
M Ibt l«A brraaii vbite pMitaloooa nad bimk tuo.

'•ISTUI President's Carriage. {-A^.^Ji* y^^
Governor's Carria^. ^

Member of Cabinet's Carriage. 09

Committee of A rrangcment in Carriages. O ,
^bffleers and Soldiers of the Mexican War, in do.Oi
^His Honor, the Mayor,and the Presidents and mem-n
^ bers or the Select and Common Councils, of the
H city of Lancaster, in ciurriages. .

0$

AID.

I

risar AKIIT Ma»NAU

PBA:«CIS KBE.tA.'^. BS«.

AID

High Sheriir of Lancaster county and Deputies.

Judges and Ofllcers of the Courts.

Citizens on Horseback.

Citizens on Foot.

Conestoga Teams.

Citizens in Carriages.

The Chief Marshal, Assistant Marshal, Aids, aod^

CoMaillMoTEMort. (»ii«i«iiiir vTcilitem ^rttti a« dr«tf nateii ia the profraame,
I will «MMiMt at •• iIm M«mn Motd," (Jh>l«)'>) WmI Kittftt, on FRIOAY^ 5 e'cloek
I P. M. prcenrl^.

CarhagM. Cititcm o« boncback. oa fopl. mii4 all oiben will lake Ibcir place* ia the
' iM oa Uta Ham«barf tarapike, at the iairnecnoa af ike Railraa4.

(^*

Order and Arrangement for Saturday.

^» tl» parpoae ofeacortinf Hn Etcfllfaey. PrrMdrni TAYLOR, to the Itirri*
■arg Kaitroad oa Salnrday morning, ihe IHh taataal. the Proccuioa will be re-ronard
a^caUy to tke order IWr fnda^. at 8^ oViock. A. M w Ontnge •twet. ike right oa

. Woee
\ IB hae. ibc proeeMwa will move oat Caat Kiag ■Irrel
to Middle. dowB Middle lo Soalh Qaeen. op Booth Queen to Wrat King, oat We«t King
to Charlolt*. op Charlotte to Onuif e. dov n Orange lo Pnacc. and ooi Prince lo the Mar- '
habofg Taramke. The proceiMoa will then hull, when ike Preiidenl. Go*craor and vj
awaibera of tka Cabiaet will move to the right of the liae. whKh will thea paa* la re- I
viewkdbre Ibcai.

I^AII Saaacr*, EmWcan. taMgaUa and Motloeo of a political character, are pivhib-
iud from Mag iatfodoced into the line. By order of

Doka Btrect. laciag Sooth and dicplaying Wr«l. At I0| o'clork, it will then proceed be
tbo foUoaring roole down Orange aireet lo North Qoeen. up Qoeen to the Prrvidenfa
QaartefB. After the Preeideal i* in line, ibe proeeMioa will move oat Caat Kiac ilreel

C jr. BOWtLL, \ . ,^

• B. VONDEHSMtTB. \ *'"*

GEORGE FORD,

CbierMar^MJ

<a @>@!®®@M)^M ' M@@*|:®® e^

PROOBAH FOB PRESIDENT TAYLORS RECEPTION

Laying of Gas-pipes. 95

received into the heavenly kingdom by old Saint
Peter. And yet, our goodly school-director-friend
was compelled to defer his upward ascension to a more
fitting season.

It was along in '43 that the gas-pipes came to dis-
turb the equilibrium of a few of the town's pessimists.
And oh, glory! how the doubters went their way pre-
dicting what was to happen when a pipe exploded,
filling all the houses with gaseous vapor, or when a
match was applied to a gas-burner! As a lad, we
recall one fastidious middle-aged growler. And bless
me, the town has still a few who haven't as yet passed
to that bourne where all growling is tabbooed !

After all, how surprisingly one episode will awaken
memory to others that for years had been lying
locked in the mind's storehouse. Too young to march
under the banner of William Henry Harrison, of
'*Tippicanoe" fame, we were not by any means too
young to join the surging mass later out the railroad
to the Harrisburg pike. Taking our seat on the fence
(not a wire one, either) we awaited the arrival of the
Enterprise, with its distinguished visitor. For days
it had been rumored that President Taylor was to pay
his respects to the city. Accordingly, not to disap-
point the ** Whigs," it was on the tenth of August,
1849, six months after his inauguration as the twelfth
President, that the distinguished citizen made his
appearance. And we can well recall the shout that
went up as he stepped from the car. "Zachary Tay-
lor, the hero of Buena Vista, President of the United
States, is in Lancaster!" And, oh, my! when he took

96 Cherished Memories.

my small, delicate hand within his own soft embrace!
It was equal to that of a mother's touch in bidding an
only son a final good-bye! Since then I've shaken
other Presidents by the hand, but none with the same
warmth. For, at the time, "Old Rough and Ready"
had become an inspiration.

However, as he only lived little more than a year
after this his first and last visit, his untimely ending
may be attributed to the gratifying "send-oflf" he
received by the goodly people of old Lancaster, known
then as now for their good will toward all men. And
now, as the order of ceremonies is reproduced on an
opposite page, no further reference need be made to
this important event.

Reaching the station, it remained for the lads of
the town to meet a number of Mexican soldiers who
had fought under "Rough and Ready," only to re-
turn, as nearly a score of years later, did the veterans
of the Civil war. How oft have these Mexican sol-
diers, with their knapsacks strapped to their backs,
recalled the scores who left their homes in '61 to do
battle for their country's flag! At the close of the
struggle we saw some of them. And now, forty-two
years later, how many remain? We see but a rem-
nant parading the streets, no longer to the music of
a "drummer-boy" who marched oflf to the war by his
father's side, then a lad in his early teens. And it was
only recently the papers conveyed the sad news that
"Danny's" spirit had passed where the sound of his
drum and that of his father's bugle will nevermore
cheer the soldier-boys into action as in the years gone
by. Peace to the memory of drummer and bugler.

Outhreak of Gold Fever. 97

Referring once more to the returned Mexican soldiers,
an amusing episode suggests itself. It seems, as the
story ran, that old John Cosgrove, whose place of
business was along where the Hotel Lancaster now
stands, had a son James, who had enlisted under the
banner of "Rough and Ready.'' Learning of his re-
turn, one of the wags wrote the father a letter with the
signature of James attached. As old John could
neither read nor write, one of a coterie of imps kindly
translated its contents. Catching its import, he went
from tavern to tavern holding the letter upside down
and repeating, "Tabaco, Buena Vista, Vera Cristo,
Mexico, United States Army, Jeems Cosgrove, dacased."

At this moment James appeared on the scene with
knapsack strapped over his shoulder. Catching sight
of his aged father, he was about to embrace him, when
the old man sang out, "Away wid ye; ye can't be per-
eonatin' yerself oflf fur me son J-ee-ms, fur he writ me
wid his own hand that he was killed away down in
Tabaco, Buena Vista, Vera Cristo, Mexico, United
States Army."

Turning from this bygone episode, it was along at
the close of the Mexican war that the gold-fever
followed. As history records, about eighty thousand
men from all sections of the country pressed their way
westward, a few by the overland route, others by way
of the isthmus, and still others by way of the Horn,
thence up the Pacific to the gold-bearing fields.

Among the number who hurried off to the "gold-
diggings" were a few from Lancaster City and county,
one of whom was Amos M'Cartney, who, later, married
7

98 Cherished Memories.

a well-known Lancaster lady, who, in 1869 was the first
woman to cross from the Pacific to the Atlantic on the
Union Pacific. At a point near Salt Lake she
witnessed the driving of two spikes, connecting the
lineS; one of silver from Nevada, the other of gold,
silver and iron from Arizona.

As another of those singular coincidences to be met
with, it was in *97, that the writer happened to be
delayed for a day in Sacramento. Taking a trolley
ride in the direction of the Sutter Mill-Race, he was
surprised to leam that this was the half-century anni-
versary of Captain Sutter's gold discovery. Every-
where on the car were evidences that something out of
the usual was taking the excursionists on a picnic-
jaunt, all wearing flags, badges and other mementoes.

Having in a casual way made known that I was from
Lancaster county, Pennsylvania, and had frequently
met Captain Sutter at his home in Lititz, I was called
upon for a few remarks. As a result I was decorated
with flags and emblems. The impression left upon
my mind was, with what sincerity aU seemed imbued
in paying homage to the memory of one who had been
indirectly the cause of turning California from a wilder-
ness into fields of grain and orange plantations.

Touching upon the subject in which the American
people are at present most deeply interested, I was only
recently met by the query, ''How do you account for
the high price all marketable products have assumed?"
This started me to thinking of the comparison between
the present time and the middle fifties. Then the great
majority of town dwellers were farmers, only on a

Provisions Plenty and Cheap. 99

smaller scale than their country cousins. Many had
their truck-patches of potatoes, cabbage, celery, peas,
beans and other truck, thus relieving themselves of the
necessity of depending on the "curb-stone** market,
then the cheapest as have since become the private
markets the dearest among those of all the leading
cities.

Apart from these truck-patches was the stable for
the cow, and not far removed, the pig-sty, with shoats
to be butchered along about Thanksgiving. Ducks,
geese and chickens were as common as the EngUsh
sparrow of the present day, with this difference, the
much-abused hen wasn't then compelled to stand
sponser for the storing away in refrigerators of mil-
lions of her products by the rapacious "Trust" that
has the temerity to assert that the supply is not only
growing scarcer, but at the same time smaUer in size.

In the fall of the year it was nothing unusual for a
farmer to bring to the home a quarter or a half steer
at four and five cents per pound, some of which was
salted down in pickle, the big, round "chunks" to be
hung in the chimney or smokehouse to be served later
as dried beef. Applebutter boiling with the making
of saurkraut was by no means unheard of in the best-
regulated city families.

Of course, these conditions prevailed when the
town was young, and before the incoming of the 'phone,
through which the "price-fixer" admonishes the
"seller" to add another cent or two a pound to the
price of his butter. Again, before the advent of the
private market houses, there was little chance for the

100 CherUhed Memories.

sellers getting "together" in the fixing of prices,
considered by those who have to pay the piper as
prohibitory. Yes, yes; too much prosperity for some,
and not enough for others, has engendered a feeling
of extravagance among the more wealthy, with money
to bum.

Of one thing I feel reasonably sure that, to maintain
a just and equitable ratio between labor and prices,
there must at the same time be an adjustment between
the cities and the farming communities. So long as
the cities continue to rob the rural communities of
their sons and daughters, so long must the "buyers"
rest content to part with their hard-earned dollars,
or sell out and turn farmers themselves. So, I thought,
my friend could take his choice.

It was along somewhere in the early fifties that I
was drawn to the extensive apple-orchard at the
northwest comer of Duke and Lemon where a speech
was deUvered by Anson Burlingame, the first ambassa-
dor to open the gates of China to the commerce of the
United States; this started me to thinking how com-
paratively few of the other towns of the country had a
greater supply of fruits of all kinds in the forties and
fifties, than Lancaster. Apples of every variety and
flavor from smokehouse, rambo, belleflower, pounders,
to the much despised grindstone which, dug up along in
the early spring, how meUow and appetising. Then
the peaches, apricots, plums, harvest pears and others
too numerous to mention, hung from trees here, there
and everywhere, affording the small boy the oppor-
tunity of climbing a tree in "Bobby" Fultz's apple

Forbidden Fruit. 101

orchard, noway rendering him Uable to more than a
good spanking when caught astraddle the high-hoard
fence.

No longer do we see the "apple-picker" standing on
a ladder with bag strung over his shoulder gathering in
the luscious fruit. To one thing I never could become
reconciled — ^why the fruit which dropped on the out-
side of the fence from a tree, was without the flavor
of that which fell on the inside of the high-board fence.
Taking into consideration the danger, the effort, is it
because forbidden fruit is always the more palatable?
As this is one of those knotty problems for which I've
never found a solution, it is respectfully referred to the
Horticultural Society for their earnest consideration.
Awaiting a reply, we close this chapter.

CHAPTER VIII.

Church Buildings Rebuilt — Check Books — ^A

Good Sister.

AS a city is a corporate body of individuals, it is
what the people make it, some few to move
with rapid strides, others to progress for a time and
then fall into "innocuous desuetude," all depending
on certain conditions, resulting at times from misman-
agement on the part of the local authorities, at still
others, through national reverses caused by over-
inflation or any one of the dozen other upheavals.
In this, Lancaster has been no exception to the general
rule. At periods it has moved along with rapid strides,
until over-building resulted in a sudden suspension of
all business activity.

Following such a condition in fifty-one and two, an
era of church improvement began in Lancaster in the
pulling down of a few of the old church buildings and
the erection of others of more stately appearance out-
wardly and better accomodations within. Thus, at
the comer of Prince and Vine Streets we, as a boy,
witnessed the erection of St. Mary's beautiful structure.
Following this was the "First Presbyterian" at the
comer of Cherry and Orange known then as now as
the "street of churches." On the site where the
present church stands was a small brick stmcture
bearing no comparison to the present edifice.

At the comer of Christian and Orange stood during

102

Old Saint James. 103

the same year a large stone building, bearing the title
and date, '* First Reformed — built 1736 — rebuilt,
1753," with walls of limestone and plastered on the
outside. Were it standing to-day it would present a
grotesque appearance in contrast with others, with its
small windows and other ancient style of architecture.
Following its dismantlement came the present more
attractive edifice, as the date on a marble table
indicates— 1736— 1753— 1852.

Recalling more vividly the old church building, it
was with boyish curiousity we stood during the even-
ing twilight of a summer day to witness the myriads
of leather-wing bats swarming out of its east and west
end gables. They semed to fly here, there and every-
where, to the annoyance of the gentler sex especially,
if onfe or more happened to enter a bed-room window
after night had set in. And oh, my, what a flurry as
all the household gathered to drive the unwelcome
intruder out of the privacy of the sleeping-room

During the years '51 and '52, the ''Reformed" was
erected on the comer where formerly stood the town's
scales. And while this building yet stands devoted
to other purposes, directly opposite looms up one of
the most beautiful and attractive churches in the
city, facing as it does on the east, ''Old Saint James,"
so changed from what it was when as a boy we always
betook ourselves to the gallery, owing, no doubt, to
the reason that the voice of the minister could be more
distinctly heard. There was still another reason: it
afforded the boys a chance to count the number of
regular "dozers" especially at the moment the long-

104 Cherished Memories.

handled pole with bag at end was passed along from
pew to pew.

Another moment with the bats and swallows: So
numerous were the latter in our boyhood as to aflford
lots of sport in knocking them right and left, as down
along the middle of the street they flew, with those
escaping to dart down this or that chimney, their
daily roosting place. And what a time the lank, lean
"chimney-sweep" had in driving these migratory
swallows, with their long tails and out-spread wings,
from their haunts, as out of the top of the chimney
would bob his own woolly head as he sang his merry
song for the edification of the boys who took pure de-
light in imitating the sweeper's melodious refrains.
Yes; the chimney-sweep of our childhood was a factor
to be reckoned with the same as is the pestiferous,
ungrateful sparrow of the present day, as unwelcome
a new-comer to the city-dweller as is the average
potato bug to the average farmer.

Ah, but how about the bumble bee, my boys?
Whew! it makes an old-timer wish he were young
again. As we recall, few were the lads with the
courage to face one of the bumble bees as backward
he moved in protecting his eyes — a sure target for their
unerring aim and sting. And here let it be said that
the boy who has never measured swords with an out-
raged bumblebee, in defense of its God-given rights,
its home, wax and honey, has missed one of life's
summer-day pleasures. What mattered it to return
home on a Saturday preceding the Sabbath with both
eyes hermetically sealed? These gentle little creatures

Thackara'8 Express, 105

may be just as numerous as ever along every fence-
comer, but the boys have no longer the instinct to
ferret them out, as had Ellis Gable, who seemed to
have a way of juking their stings. Again we ask
what have become of the bumble bee and the innocent
hornet? Awaiting an answer, it will be necessary to
pass to other innovations that have absorbed the at-
tention of our twentieth-century boys, if such are to
be found except on the baseball stand or in the reading
of a dime novel or perchance, the Sunday illustrated
papers.

As to ball-playing the middle of the streets were
equally divided between the boys, chickens, geese and
quadruped on the one hand, and, the slow-going traps
of all kinds on the other. And as to the pavements,
these old man Thackara claimed as an inherent right
for the express company, over which he drove his
push-cart from store to store delivering his daily supply
of such articles as weren't contained in Robert Moder-
well's freight wagon. Since then, while the sidewalks
have been kept reasonably clear of all obstructions, the
leading business streets are yet encumbered with all
kind of building material, leading the average stranger
to conclude that the people have no rights which
builders are bound to respect. However, seeing with
what danger the ''old-timer" is surrounded, it won't
do to protest; each generation has had its "fads and
fancies. " Indeed, as well might we find fault with the
shape and style of the twentieth-century's girl's head-
gear which, if worn six decades ago by the young ladies
of the town, might have rendered them liable to arrest

106 Cherished Memories.

for imitating their less pretentious cousins of the
farm.

But since we come to think it over, we have no fault
to find with either the girls or their hats. What matters
it if we old chaps be compelled to step outside on the
curb when a dozen of these "sixteen-year old*' darlings
come trippingly along arm in arm casting sly glances at
an equal number of their boy-companions with hair
parted in the middle and cap at an angle of ten de-
grees to windward. Oh, yes! with these bright-eyed
hopefuls, done up in the latest patent-leathers and
other gewgaws, the youngsters of six decades ago
simply weren't in it.

To most fathers with a group of both sexes, what
would the town be anyw^ay without the girls and boys?
Think for a moment of sidewalks given up entirely to
elderly maidens, bachelors and old married men I
Whew I what a commotion among the department
stores, millineries, ice cream and photograph gal-
leries, the theatres and moving picture shows, for the
girls; the pool rooms, clubs, ten-pin alleys and billiard
rooms for the boys! Why, well, indeed, might the
dancing and skating rink go into the hands of a re-
ceiver. And as to the summer trolley cars running
to Rocky Springs, even this line might be compelled
to go into foreclosure! No, no! the very thought of
curtailing the supply and demand of these happy,
go-as-you-please, twentieth-century lads and lasses
is enough to make all the town's bachelors get a
"move on.''

The girls, bless 'em! what matters it if they are

' Boys Have Changed. 107

crowding the young men to the wall in all departments
of trade and commerce? After all, who can blame
them? It's the survival of the fittest. So, go it,
while you're young, my girls, but be careful when
you come to join your fortune with this or that young
"sport," you aren't marrying one who'll let you do
the hustling in running a tyx)ewriter while he spends
his time and money in a pool or club room.

Speaking of the boys, having been one myself, unless
they are different from those of our days, it would be
strange if they didn't have the same hopes and aspira-
tions. And yet I am inclined to the opinion that the
genuine all-round boys are no longer in evidence.
They drift too soon from knee-breeches into the latest
style of men's wearing apparel. To drop out of boy-
hood into that of early manhood, with all the meaning
implies, would seem to be the tendency of their day
and generation. It's the same with the girls; we see
them to-day in their kilts, happy, cheerful, innocent —
tomorrow, we hardly know them in their womanly
attire.

"But — but," as we soliloquize, "it'll never do to
protest; the youngsters will have their way; we know
this from experience; complain, we do occasionally,
only to be told we are out of touch with the times. As
a result, we keep thinking, and yet pay the millinery
bills as one after the other is thrust under our eyes by
the youngest, who is always sent to reconcile the "old
man" to the inevitable. Grumble? Of course, for
where in the broad universe is there a man with a
"gro wed-up" family who isn't disposed to do a little
grumbling with the check-book resorted to daily?

108 Cherished Memories.

The check-book! well, after all, paying bills by check
isn't half as aggravating as to be compelled to count
out the ten-dollar bills one after the other. Have ye
ever thought, ye fathers, how easy it is to write out a
check for a hundred or two? Then, the number of
lesser ones in paying gas, telephone, grocery and other
bills that keep accumulating from week to week. Yes,
after all, it's to checks that may be attributed our
twentieth-century extravagant tendencies.

In the olden days it was somewhat different; then the
"old" man held the long, silver purse close within
his grasp ; and as others have occasion to know, it was
with no little persuasion he could be prevailed upon to
open it. And bless you, when at last the little round
silver rings let out its contents, they were usually a
few fippanybits, levies, quarters, and maybe, a stray
half-dollar with its edges worn off, so long had it been
kept within the old purse. But the big, round silver
dollars, bank-notes and gold-pieces; these were usually
stored away for safe keeping, but where? None
knew but the old gentleman himself. It must have
been somewhere up stairs, so often did he stroll up and
back until he could make up his mind to disturb the
old bureau drawer. Yes, yes! with a shake of the head,
I've reached the conclusion that if anyone deserves the
noose of the hangman, it's the fellow who first invented
the check-book!

Ah, but notes, on the other hand, can be tolerated
for the reason that, as a rule they have from thirty to
ninety days to run, with the chance of the maker allow-
ing the "endorser" the pleasure of lifting them on

Lifting a Note. 109

maturity. And of all the innocent diversions, that of
lifting another man's note, is the most gratifying.
Do you doubt it? Well, if so disposed, it'll be taking
you only one short minute, a stub-pen, and a small
quantity of ink to accomodate a friend in need. Under
this act of generosity, you rest content until the note
goes to protest. And then what? Well, never mind
the what ; go lift it and charge to profit and loss. Later,
perchance, you'll be repaid by being invited to partake
of a hundred-dollar "set-out" by a friend, at your own
expense.

Leaving this most delightful subject for "endorsers"
to dwell upon at their leisure, and getting back to the
girls — I am compelled in all candor to admit that,
before my tenth year, I had taken a mortal dislike to
my eldest sister; the others I could browbeat or win
over with a handful of delicious "love-letters." when
so carefully wrapped with a motto by our boy-friend
the South Queen street Doctor, growing a little old, but
the same warm-hearted man to-day as when in the days
of old he stood in his father's confectionery store.

As has been said, I could manage those younger
than myself, not so with the meddler with a boy's
greatest pleasures. Yes, this bright-eyed sister of mine
was everlastingly a thorn in my side. Indeed, what
she couldn't find out wasn't worth the while of Joe
Brientnall, the High Constable, or the sleepy m'ght
watchman, who went his way by night calling out the
hours for no other earthly reason than to let the
sleeper understand that he was at all hours in evi-
dence. It wasn't enough for him to stand in front of

110 Cherished Memories.

our house calling out, "P-a-s-t two o'clock, un' it
drizziliest, un' it frizziest, un' down cume der rain!"
No! for he was sure to give two or three raps with the
handle of his cane, and then go his way to encase him-
self in his little watch-box which, on Hallow E'en, was
sure to find itself, he knew not where.

But to that sister. Oh! how I hated her! Go
where I would, or do what I might, I was sure to be
brought to a strict account. If I returned home after
playing "baggs" along the Conestoga, with a story
warranted to deceive even a twentieth-century detec-
tive, there stood facing the young "innocent" that
meddlesome sister. How this inquisitive youngster
kept herself informed, I could never learn. As to any
of my cronies turning tale-bearers — well I knew they
would he themselves blue in the face before consenting
to divulge, of their own volition, any innocent boyish
amusement, even to the extent of robbing a water-
melon patch. And for this reason, I have always had
a certain contempt for the boy tale-bearer only too
ready to bear witness against his best friend. On the
other hand, I have always admired the lad who man-
fully steps forward saying, "Teacher, I did it with my
little hatchet."

What was still more aggravating, I was forever
being reminded of my "get-up," and the effect of evil
communication with other bad boys, upon good
character. If my hands needed scrubbing more than
once in fortnight, or hair brushing out with something
finer than a curry-comb, there was the fault-finder
morning, noon and evening, with water, comb and
brush. Oh, glory! how I hated her!

An Outraged Stomach. Ill

And now, recalling George Washington and his little
hatchet, I am in duty bound, as a warning to other
boys to relate an episode. Early one summer evening
after my first experiment with the noxious ''weed,"
I was led to the door by a few of my cronies who, after
telling my mother I had over-indulged myself with too
many paddy-cakes, they vamoosed as suddenly as they
came. Yes, I was sick unto death with what she
thought was a case of measles or scarlet fever. There,
in my little bed I lay trying to overcome the nausea
that had been pla5dng hide and seek with an outraged
stomach, with my younger sisters standing by my
bed-side weeping their eyes out for my speedy re-
covery, as mother poured into me a dose of calomel
jalap^ But that eldest sister knew what had happened
before my making an open confession that never,
never, would I ever again, use the insidious weed in
any form. But alas! how soon are promises, made
under fear of going to the bad place, broken with im-
punity I In my case, it required little more than a
week to fall from grace.

As a result, with no desire to set myself up as an
example for others to follow, the naked truth com-
pels me to declare that forever after I was a user of the
vile stuff in the shape of a cigar. However, I had one
"credit-mark;" I never chewed "terbacker;" nor have
I ever drifted in to the abominable habit of indulging
myself in a cigarette or of '* chewing-gum," a practice
more unbecoming to the young girls of this twentieth
century than that of chewing tobacco in the olden days.

What might have been the effect on the "boy-

112 Cherished Memories.

smoker" of sixty years ago, had the subject of hygiene
and narcotics been taught in the public schools, I have
no means of knowing. The chances are that, after a
lesson or two, I should have followed the example of
this generation's precocious youngster, who, when out
of reach of the moral influence of the teacher, starts to
proving the truth or untruth of the precept by taking a
puflf or two.

Of course, up to the breaking out of the war, the
expense attending a quiet "smoke'* wasn't very costly,
a big copper cent going pretty far along the line of
economy. At this juncture I might have broken the
habit except for the fact that the General Government
needed additional revenue, and as I was without
property holdings, how better could I contribute my
share to the Nation's immediate needs and wants?

With this satisfactory apology, I was along about
this time driven into a condition of "bondage." Oh,
to think of a youth of my tender years being compelled
to wade clear through the holy Book from Genesis to
Revelations! But as there was a premium offered
by our Sunday School teacher. Miss Benjamin, to the
one to be the first to complete the volume, I like a duti-
ful son, managed to skip along, leaving out a few
chapters here and there; and as to the "jaw-breakers"
— these I would skip over with as little compunction
of conscience as I would a five-rail fence for a rosy
peach.

And now, after looking back over my earlier boy-
hood days, how thrice doubly thankful am I to feel that
I had an older sister to guide my erring footsteps along

Value of a Sister. 113

and over many a little chasm, so common to the aver-
age city boy now as then. Let it be repeated : The boy
who has never had a sister, be it one or many, should
lose no time in going in search of one. If, as has been
said, "What is home without a mother?" it may with
equal force be said, "What is home without a sister?"
The foregoing are but "crumbs swept up" along the
pathway of a boy's life. The brighter "jewels" — the
lads who have since developed into men of standing
and prominence as leaders in the great cause of the
city and county's prosperity — ^these remain for the
local historian to set forth in the pages of history.
The "crumbs" by others overlooked — ^these I have
attempted to gather into concrete form without the
slightest regard for the writer's personality appearing
too conspicuously in the lime-light of the modem day
critic, ever disposed to profit by the shortcomings of
others.

8

CHAPTER IX.

Getting Emplotiiext — ^Thz County Faib in the
Fifties — Stefft — "Toodleb" — ^Jake Parks.

HiBAM Kbooh.

IF, in the foregoing, the writer has indulged himself
in a good many things that are old and others that
are of little interest to the younger reader, the fault
must be attributed to his years. However, in passing
from town to country there may be sufficient diversity
to make amends for such discrepancies as the previous
chapters contain.

Getting back to boyhood, on reaching my fourteenth
year, like most other growing lads, I naturally began
to look 'round for such permanent employment as
might best boost a youngster along in the world. As
there were no "umbrella factories" and other such
industries as have since made this city a Paradise
of "child labor," I became imbued with the desire to
becoming a blacksmith in the shop of the late Daniel
Wemtz in the rear of the Balloonist John Wise's
home opposite the Grubb estate. It wasn't long, how-
ever, until I had stepped with my bare left foot on a
piece of hot iron in the shape of a horseshoe when I
suddenly changed my mind, something not unusual
even at the present day for boys bom tired. Although
somewhat superstitious, at no time since could I be
persuaded to hang one of these disturbers of my
peaceful moments over the door of my bedroom as
a sign of good luck. No, I wouldn't give the snap of

114

/ Become a Clothing Salesman. 115

my finger for all the new or worn out horseshoes since
the first quadruped came over on Hendrick Hudson's
Dutch ship. In no way discouraged over this slight
mishap, I went my way in search of such other em-
plojrment where horseshoes were nowhere in evidence.

In view of the fact that I had traveled "some," I
resolved to turn balloonist while assisting "Charlie"
in imrolling and varnishing the long rolls of silk in his
father's back yard. Whether I was conscious at the
time that at some future day I might go soaring over
the English Channel or down over the Hudson in a
monoplane, memory fails to recall. Nor can I re-
member at this late day whether it was the gas that
gave out or a storm that prevented my taking a seat in
the wicker-basket in going in search of the later much-
discussed Halley's comet's tail. What I do remember
is, the balloon was inflated on the plot of ground
where, among others, stands the residence of the Hon.
W. U. Hensel.

Compelled to live out my days on terra firma, as
good luck would have it, in the Spring of '51 I entered
Reuben Erben's Clothing Store on North Queen near
Orange, and where for three years I continued on "big"
days, such as April first, Whitmonday and Circus-day,
to act as salesman.

In the carrying of packages, notably on April first,
I usually found time to stroll down to Steinman's hard-
ware store, where an ample "spread" was provided for
their Dutch customers, who seldom failed to lay in a
good supply of substantial. Indeed, so alluring had
the "feasting" become in the fifties, as to cause at

116 Cherished Memories.

least one other hardware man later to take at intervals
a half dozen Germans to his home at the noon-hour.
Then, to top the meal off with a " half-spanish! " Why,
it's the easiest way of building up a profitable business
at the least possible cost. What mattered it if in the
purchase of a stove, the pipe consisted of but one single
elbow-joint.

Passing these little episodes, even a growing boy
couldn't help noticing during *51-'52, the beginning
of a new era for the town. Over on East King, the
thrifty John N. Lane had set the ball of improvement
rolling by erecting a new store of sandstone with metal
shutters that could be raised and lowered with the
greatest ease. So far in advance was he over other
merchants who had to bang theirs shut nightly, mak-
ing the streets look as if they had gone into mourning
for one of their class, as to cause him to be looked upon
as the foremost business man in the city.

It is scarcely conceivable to note the change between
then and now, with store-windows of plate-glass before
which hundreds stand during a Christmas-Eve, filled
to overflowing with such an assortment of gifts as to
have turned the heads of the merchants of half a cen-
tury ago, topsy-turvy.

During the early fifties, signs of improvement every-
where met the eye. The cotton mills began to loom
up with evidence that a newer order of business thrift
had set in. But in the midst of this seeming prosperity,
came a lamentable bank-failure. As Lancaster has
always been quick to recover from these periodical
upheavals, things soon began to assiune their normal
status.

• «

m
m

• •

T?ie County Fair. 117

On the Fourth of July, '51, amid the booming of
cannon, the people celebrated the seventy-fifth anni-
versary of American Independance. Later, beginning
October 19, came the opening-day of the Lancaster
County Agricultural Fair, held a short distance north
of the Groffstown road, midway between that and the
Philadelphia and Lancaster Turnpike. And what
a glorious time for the country-boys who had come
with their sweethearts to see the sights.

It was during this week that the "Museum" was in
full blast with Daniel Boone's club, with which he had
killed all the Indians in the state of Kentucky, as one
of the attractions. In an open lot not far removed
were the " Fl)dng Horses," with the " Indians" perform-
ing their acrobatic evolutions. In still another tent
were the "India-rubber" horse, and the "Wild Man
of Borneo" with the grind-organ turning out its
sweetest melodies for the edification of the country
lads with a few of those older in years measuring
swords with the "light-fingered" gentry, usually
departmg wiser if not happier.

But since we come to think it over, what's "Fair-
Week" for, an)rway, if not to cater to the wants of
the unsophistocated "innocents" whether from town
or country? A little of this world's experience gather-
ed early in life and profited by is more wholesome than
to be imconsciously entrapped into the many snares
when one has passed his half-century milestone.

Referring again to the "Museum," we have no
recollection of ever having met "Steffy" posing as a
"dwarf" or strolling 'round taking in the sights. We

118 Cherished Memories.

have, however, a very distinct reminder of having seen
Ben Mishler's protege, who, usually when in the city,
made his home with the man who built a house in a
single day of ten hours.

It's been said that on one occasion Steffy was ap-
proached by a showman, who on learning he had
passed his century-mark, offered him a good round
stun to travel with the show as a freak. The bargain
having been consimimated, Steffy asked time to con-
sult his father before leaving home. "Your father,
your father! Why, why, where in the thimder is
your father?*' '*0h, he's up-stairs nursing grand-
father, " came as he started to go his way.

'^Steffy," whose portrait is seen opposite, was bom
and reared somewhere in the eastern part of the county.
Only four feet in height, with body out of all proportion
to the length of his pedal extremities, and half-century-
old stovepipe hat perched on the top of his well-shaped
cranium, with a long, black stogie between his teeth,
our prototjrpe could be looked for after each important
election with the returns securely stored away in the
crown of his steeple-shaped headgear. Stepping into
the headquarters of the "Thugs" and spreading out
the tally-sheet before the coterie of political bosses,
Steffy stood prepared for any changes which might
make things solid for "Mulhooly," as the sa)dng went.

Whether this product of the Welsh-mountain dis-
trict had imbibed too much of MisUer's Bitters of
labels of different quality, has escaped our storehouse
of memory, which, at times has been in the habit of
"leaking" when least expected.

\

" ToocOer" Richardson. 1 1 9

Glancing with a sort of inward satisfaction at a re-
cently acquired half-tone, mailed the autobiographer
by a leading citizen, I am lost in reverie, as my eyes
take in none other than that of "Willie," otherwise
known to the town as "Toodler," painter, glazier, and
all-roimd handy man, always ready in a pinch to
turn a willing hand in the line of his calling to serve
a friend.

It was " Willie " who, when called to varnish a mahog-
any door or a grand-father's eight-day clock, would
just as likely give it a coat of the vilest black, green or
blue. Then, if a single pane needed replacing, the
owner was fortunate if he didn't have a few others
needing attention.

However, we must picture "Tood" as we found him
sitting on a barrel, happy, contented, done up in a
piccadilly collar and red necktie with cheeks of ver-
milion red and moustache of cosmetic black. But,
oh, glory I what a sight to behold when the perspiration
began to flow and the colors mix, with the thermom-
eter up in the nineties. It was then that all 'round
handy " WilUe" was a subject for the artist's pencil or
the photographer's camera. Apart from his grotesque
appearance when not under the influence of too many
mint juleps, Toodler was a useful citizen. One or two
he could withstand, but the third, as many another
bas discovered, compelled him to remain over night in
or on a barrel.

Taking the next half-tone in hand, and holding it
before the sun's rays to bring out the lines of the por-
trait, we are almost overcome with a congestive chill

120 Cherished Memories.

as we glance it over. " None other than the inimitable
'Jake Parks'" we soliloquize, as we look it over more
critically. Reaching Lancaster at the time of the
landing of the first African ship on American soil, Jake
is going to live as long as there's a push-cart to push
or a banjo to play. After all, what matters it if during
a February blizzard, Jake is encased in the supple-
ments of all the discarded Sunday newspapers as a
preventive against certain epidemics common the
world over.

*'Yes, yes, it's many a long day since we last heard
the ring of his voice and the strains of his banjo in the
'Yellow-Front' cigar store. While not a professional
of the late Charlie Loag order, he had a way of man-
ipulating the strings of his banjo for a few stray
m'ckels to charm the hearts of his hearers, of both high
and low degree. But Jake, too, is happy ever since
lie sat before the camera to have his picture taken."

Drifting back to the "Museum," the place where
the boys of the fifties used to congregate, we have no
recollection of ever having seen Mammy Staines on
exhibition, but we are not so short of memory as to
overlook at least four old mammys — Mammy Jordon,
Mammy Bender, of "sparemint" fame. Mammy Hag-
garty and Mammy Staines, with her hoop-skirts of
enormous size, resembling a small circus tent, such as
"Boogy" Hambright used to tote 'roimd the country.

The oldest and best remembered of this quartette
is Mammy Haggarty, who usually held forth in front
of the State-house. On one occasion, for which there

J

JAKE PABKB

l"*

«

Mammy Haggarty. 121

are no records to confirm its truthfulness, something
occurred during an important trial in the Penn Square
Court-house. Holding a bottle of fermented mead
in the direction of court and judge, the cork went
sailing through the open window and striking the
venerable justice on the side of his wig, caused a
regular stampede for Reigart's liquor store for a little
something more appetizing than the flavor of a cork
from a bottle of Mammy Haggerty's home-made
beer.

Anyone strolling down North Queen during the
fifties from the "Museum" to the "Grape," might
have fallen in with many an eccentric character, one
of whom comes in mind. To imitate a short-set
Grerman's vernacular was a boy's greatest delight;
and so, in passing old "Oscar's" place of business, it
was singular if one or more glancing into his store
wouldn't call out, "Jakey, tie der dog loose; Jakey,
lock der key un' puts der door in yer pocket." And
it was only the coming of one of the town's constables,
calling "Get a move-on, or I'll send you to the lock-up
on a barrow, you young heathen," that gave Oscar
rest from the torments of the town's hoodlums.

However, to pass the "Grape," presided over by
the two Michael brothers, would be to forget the
literaH who used to congregate around the "cannon"
stove during frosty evenings. Among the best known
was none other than Colonel Dittmars, or "Ditt," as
he was called, as he went his way, leaning on his
staff.

122 Cherished Memories.

On one occasion, as the story runs, he had just re-
turned from Niagara, where he had taken his educated
"Betsy" to see the sights. Standing before the bar,
with a coterie of his chums, he exclaimed, in sonorous
voice, "Gentlemen, I took Betsy to see the wonder
of the world — ^to Niagara. As I stood pointing to
the rapids, with the waters rushing down through
the whirlpool, I turned to the old lady and said,
'Where before, in all of the Good Man's handiwork,
did you ever see a more magnificent panorama? Ah,
yes, Betsy,' I went on, 'cast your eyes here, there
and everywhere, and tell Ditt where in the heavens
above or in the waters under the earth, another
Niagara can be found?'

"At last, at last, after exhausting my vocabulary
of descriptive adjectives, that educated Betsy turned
and said, 'Why, Ditt, where's the mill?'

' ' ' The mill I Great heavens, Betsy I ' And with this
I brought her back to the Conestoga where she might
see the stone grist-mill and hear the wheels go 'round."

And yet if Betsy had lived a half century longer,
she might have gone to Niagara and seen the wheels
go 'round, in sending the electric current to turn the
wheels in thousands of industries.

Great Scott I just as we are about to conclude the
town's galaxy of celebrities, here comes a long, ten-
page letter with the half-tone enclosed. Removing it
from its snug hiding place, our eyes at once take in
the image of "Hiram," the scissors' grinder and bari-
tonist, who years ago used to sing in nearly all the

UIItAU KlIOOM

*« '

Hiram Kroom. 123

church choirs. One glance at his profile and his
identity is at once established.

"Hiram" had no counterpart in the circle in which
he moved, being at all times a peculiar character unto
himself; possibly, for the reason that at an early age
he was disappointed in love. Many, indeed, were the
times, while leaning over his machine, he would \m-
consciously himi the few lines he had dedicated to
his beautiful Maria, who had so cruelly turned him
down for another imworthy of her love. Bom in
Ireland, he made but one trip to his native land, but
whether in search of the girl who had jilted him, he
never could be prevailed upon to disclose. However,
on his return he was wont to say, "Ireland was good
enough for Hiram as a boy; but America, the 'land of
the free and the home of the brave,' is the one place
for the scissors grinder to end his days." And here
he ended them not so many years ago.

Blessed with an over-amount of self-assurance, his
baritone voice, apart from the jingle of his bell, was
sufficient for any housewife to tell that Hiram, the
scissors grinder, was in evidence. His favorite ex-
pression on meeting anyone of a family was "And
how are the children?"

Throwing myself back in the old arm-chair, I begin
to chuckle inwardly as I recall "Shinnerhonnis" and
"Georgie Kuhns," the old colored denizen who used
to sleep in a ramshakle of a car in the rear of Thaddeus
Stevens' residence, with little "Ikey" as his bosom
companion. Then there was Jesse Britton, who, on

124 Cherished Memories.

being sent for a beefsteak or a slice of ham during
August, always carried it in the crown of his hat to
keep it from being devoured by the pestiferous fly,
as numerous in those days as are the mosquitoes on
the Jersey coast. Old "Black Ellen" and ''Shouting
Hannal" Hanna was sure to get religion at the
shouting "Holy Roller's" colored meeting regularly
once an evening, only to fall from grace the morning
following.

"Hi, hoi And what can this contain?" I mumble
as I break the seal. Oh, yes, some good friend hasn't
forgotten bUnd "Johnny!" How many years he's
been siting with back against the telegraph pole at
Hirsh's comer entertaining the country boys and
girls! Once he was young, now he's feeling the ap-
proach of age, and yet he's industriously playing the
accordion at the "old stand." Drop, then, a penny
into his wooden box and you'll have the pleasure of
knowing you're helping the bUnd, the needy.

Again, whose likeness is this? Can I be mistaken?
Oh, no! it carries one back to war-times — to "Father
Abraham," and the late Ed. Ranch's "Pete Schiffle-
brenner." This small sheet of Dutch dialect was
peddled years ago by "Baker," who, while not as
musical nor as young as forty years ago, is still on the
town actively engaged in selling the John Baer's
Dutch and English Almanac. Cheerful, happy, amid
all his adversities, "Baker" may yet be seen on the
"Square" dealing out the annual weather reports
which the "Dutch" prefer to rely upon rather than
on "Old Prob's" imcertain daily predictions, hitting

BLIND JOHNNY

• •*■

•

•-•

Baker Young. 125

it one day and missing it the next. Lend, then,
Baker a helping hand in the hour of his needs, rather
than to wait the time to be sending a few roses to deco-
rate his humble tomb. And so say we all.

Before drawing this, the last chapter on " city life,''
to a close, it may be said that, for a period of three
years, from my fourteenth to my seventeenth year,
the total wages received, at $1.50 per week, amounted
to the magnificent yearly sum of $78.00, most of it
going into the hands of the family. And yet, during
these happy years I had a royal time, as pleasures
went in those days, with never a thought of spending
a summer at the seashore. As familiar as I had be-
come with "city life," the reader may in due time
learn that the beginning of life over again in the
country wasn't, for a time at least, a bed of roses. I
had much to learn that a city text-book in no way
afforded. The contrast to follow may well repay the
reader in comparing rural life of more than half a cen-
tury ago with what it is to-day. Apart from any de-
sire to hold my early life as an example for others to
follow, I was always ambitious, and ever since I've
had only contempt for the boy who isn't willing to
"stick" at whatever his hands may find to do until
something better comes along. To linger by the way-
side and never look forward is to go backward. And
once a young man goes sUding down the hill of life the
chances of success are as one in a hundred. Speaking
from experience, never give up one position until you
are sure a better one is awaiting you. And as a con-
cluding truism, the most critical time of a youth's life

126 Cherished Memories.

is from birth down to the seventeenth year. Bridge
well over this chasm and you will have done an act
worthy of all praises, be ye teacher or parent. And
now to the continuation of the narative.

BAKES KOUNG

^ fc k

k
<>

V

PART II

CHAPTER X.

Leave Lancaster for Paradise — ^Experiences

En Route.

HAVING given an account of my boyhood experi-
ences in ^'Old Lancaster," it will now be neces-
sary to invite the reader's attention to the Spring of
'54 when I became a pilgrim to Paradise.

As another of those singular coincidences, it was
some time during February of the above-named year
that a tall, slenderly-built countrjnnan called at our
house on a mission little di£Fering from that of a half-
score years before when, at the age of seven, we left
for Leesburg, Virginia.

Without entering largely into details, the conver-
sation between Mr. Samuel Brua and father ran as
follows; He had started a manufacturing industry less
than a dozen miles east of the city of Lancaster, and
had come to secure a foreman with a thorough knowl-
edge of what the new "plant" required. Among
other things, he was overheard to remark that he was
desirous of securing the right to manufacture a com-
sheller of which father held letters of patent, mention
of which was made in a previous chapter.

Little of interest was manifested by myselfj ^£^:
sat behind the wood-stove to be seen, not heard,* until '

127

^:'

128

Cherished Memories.

> •.

I overheard the remark that his place of business was
along the Pequea, a short distance removed from a
village called Paradise, some of whose dwellers were
Huguenots, others Scotch-Irish, with still others re-
siding nearby of the Mennonite persuasion. Who
they were and what they were I had not the slightest
means of knowing, for at no time within my recollec-
tion as a boy, had the subject of local history been
taught in any of the public schools of the town. Then,
as nothing had occured to take me country-boxmd
beyond the big Conestoga bridge, like most of the
other boys of the city, I was satisfied to paddle my
own canoe within its limits of two square miles.

And now, having declared somewhat apologetically
my lamentable ignorance of "country-life," I can
truthfully go a step further by saying that the only
Paradise I could at the moment recall came as the
result of a Sabbath-school lesson of that faraway
"Garden of Eden," which I now associated with this
earthly Paradise. This delusion led me to picture in
my mind's eye the pearly streets of Paradise, with its
"celestials" enrobed, if not in the Millerite garb, such
as I had seen down in Leesburg, at least in one equally
becoming to the dwellers — ^the Huguenots, Scotch-
Irish and Mennonites. At one moment, I was almost
ready to blurt out my entire willingness to leave this
town of Hades for Paradise, where the wicked cease
from troubling and the weary are at rest, including
,_ myself, of course, as one of the weary, leaving all my
':{ttot>ins for the Lime Streeters to settle at their
leisure.

" MAMMY " STAISE!

Town versiis Country. 129

This hypnotic condition I can attribute to my
Sabbath-day teacher, who, as regularly as the hour
came, would hold before my imagination the pearly
streets of the ''celestial" Paradise, where all good
boys might expect to find an abiding place.

Be this as it may, a few words may be said of
"country life" of fifty-six years ago, when scarcely
more than sixty per cent, of the soil was under culti-
vation. As far back as our recollection extends, on
both sides of the two turnpikes running in an easterly
direction from within a mile or two of the town of
Lancaster, were heavy timber tracts making it dan-
gerous for boys to venture upon. Unlike to-day,
there were no street cars nor automobiles. Besides
the one line of railroad was the rickety stage coach,
a half dozen or more departing six days out of seven
for the extremities of the county. There was one
other means of transportation, the "new plank road,"
extending to the conservative town of Manheim. But
it wasn't long until the planks began to flare up at
the ends, causing it to be abandoned by the " sporting
fraternity."

Again, there was, at the time of which we write, a
feeling of antipathy on the part of the dwellers of the
rural districts against those of the town, and vice versa.
A paragraph from one of the Lancaster papers reads:
"It is difficult to account for the intense opposition
which prevails in certain sections of the county
against the people of the city." As a result, few
country boys in the fifties came except to enter a
store or a profession. And even many who arrived
9

130 Cherished Memories.

on gala days were oftentimes made to feel that their
absence was more to be desired than their presence.
The same with the town boys prowling 'round over
the coimtry, at times to return wiser if not happier.
"Town boys for the town and country boys for the
coimtry," if not one of the imwritten mandates, acted
as a restraint in keeping the two sections in a measure
separate and apart. This is not meant to infer that
there weren't times when an "inrush" to the city gave
the town a holiday appearance, as on market days and
others; for there has never been a time when Lancas-
ter wasn't the center of trade and commerce. On the
other hand, there was a time within the memory of
the oldest inhabitant when few of the rural dwellers
could be induced to exchange a coimtry home for that
of the town's. The turning of the tide from coimtry
to city may be traced to the home-coming of the
"boys" from the war of the Rebellion. Having seen
life as they had never seen it before, thousands refused
to go back to the farm after having become more
closely in touch with the centers of population.

With all of a boy's hopes and aspirations centering
around "city life," it is in no way strange that, in my
seventeenth year, I should have conjured in my imagi-
nation all kind of notions, many of which were in
time to be dispelled like dew before the morning's
Sim.

At last, after two months of anxious waiting, the
first of April came, with a six-horse Conestoga wagon,
at early sunrise, ready to convey our household eflfects
to old Paradise. Whatever may have escaped my

A Parting Present. 131

memory during the past five decades, the sound of
the jit^Iing of the bells on the hems of the six iron
grays remains, never to be effaced.

As the other members of the family excepting
"Terry," the terrior, and myself took the steam road,
to be on hand when the goods arrived, it remained
for the only boy to take a seat on the off-mare, for what
reason I know not, except to protect the more costly

COKSSTOQA VAOON,

of our mahogany furniture and silverware from falling
into the hands of one or more of the Huguenots,
should either attempt to waylay the team enroute to
Paradise.

And here let it be said, as an historical statement,
that the only parting present received by the writer
was a rib-bound history of the county as he was about
to step into the saddle. This present I accepted
from a friend with the request that I make it my
guide and companion as I went my way to enter upon

132 CkeriMhed Mewwries.

•
thftt newer life to me mt the moment, so full ci imaeeA
poflsibilities.

In addition to this little appreciated bulky volume,
^rtiich I enclosed within my coat, I was followed by a
coterie of the Lime street gang as far as Witmer's
bridge, beyond which it wasn't safe for them to ven-
ture for fear of being lost, requiring the constables to
start out with beOs in hand, as had only too frequently
been the case when, one of the more venturesome of
the town-lads failed to return after ni^t had set in.

Proud! Never before, except on my trip on horse-
back from Leesburg to Washington, had I ever fdt
prouder than while sitting by the driver's side. And
now, to describe his appearance, in shirt sleeves with
buckskin breeches scarcdy reaching below the tops
of his raw-hides, and black brim felt hat pressed wdl
down over his head of long hair of deepest black with
a few strands of silvery gray! That he was built for
work, his stalwart frame clearly indicated, leading me
to the conclusion that, if a resident of Paradise, he
been sent to prepare the soil for the ''celestials" who,
if given to work at all, it wasn't with their hands.

However, all went well as we jogged our way over
the macadam road to the tingling of the beUs, until
I had asked him such a flood of questions as to the
kind of people I was to meet down in Paradise, as to
cause him to view this inquisitive ''greenie" with a
look of down-right credulity, if not curiosity.

That he was of "Dutch" ancestry, his idiom made
only too clear, leading his interviewer to divine that
if he was a living specimen of the village dwellers

Invited to Vieit Mennonite, 133

with whom I was so soon to ca43t my lot, the sooner
I retraced my steps the happier I should be. What
annoyed me most was his persistence in speaking a
mixture of German and English, repeatedly asking,
in his quaint way, '* Eendst nicht der deitsch sprecha?'^
At last, to my satisfaction, I was to learn that he
wasn't of Huguenot descent, nor a resident of Paradise,
but a Mennonite farmer, residing some miles north of
the pike, nearby what was known as the ''King's
Highway," but where located I know not and cared
less — ^the village I was on the lookout for was Para-
dise.

Being of a happy, jolly turn, ever ready to crack
a joke in broken English, we managed to get along
fairly well imtil reaching the Mennonite meeting house,
on the crest of a hill, when I concluded to rest my
stiffened limbs by jogging my way along on foot,
scarcely realizing the distance yet to be covered before
I should enter the pearly streets of Paradise! Indeed,
so friendly had we become before parting, that he
kindly invited me to visit his two-hundred-acre home-
stead when occasion took me to the ''up" country,
and where, nearly a century and a half before, the
"Dutch" had settled themselves down in an un-
broken wilderness. To this I signified my entire
willingness, little dreaming how soon, or under what
conditions. As the result of this invitation, as the
reader may in due time learn, certain things happened
of which at the time I was in no way conscious.

A moment later as the team passed from view, I
was overcome with a feeling of such perfect content-

134 Cherished Memories.

ment as to drive all thoughts of the town of brick and
mortar to the winds. At last I had come in direct
touch with Nature, with a language needing but to
be understood to make "country life" a thing of
beauty and joy forever. However, the next instant,
as I turned and caught sight of the spire of the Luth-
eran steeple, a reaction set in, overcoming poor me
with a feeling of home-sickness such as I had never
but once experienced. A thousand and one recollec-
tions of the boys who had gathered 'round the Lime
Street Bridge began to set my heart-strings to throb-
bing like the reel of an old-fashioned spinning wheel.
With these came others, causing me to regret that I
had ever been so foolish as to think of exchanging the
life of the town, so near yet so far, for the village of
Paradise, notwithstanding the fact that the sturdy
Mennonite farmer had laughed some of my ''celestial"
notions clear out of my head. And yet, how little
does a seventeen-year-old boy know of that Unseen
Power which directs our footsteps, destined, perchance,
to shape one's course of life, all for the better.

As there was no doctor within hailing distance to
prescribe for a disease called "homesickness," to
throw off the spell was but to cast my eyes in the
direction of the morning sim where, before my vision,
lay a picture more pleasing and artistically more beau-
tiful than that painted by the hand of the town's
most accomplished artist. The oaks, maples, hick-
ories having just put on their spring raiment of bright-
est green, soon began to drive all my former forebod-
ings, where, I knew not. Indeed, one blade of grow-

Prone to Forget Old Friends. 135

ing grain contained more beauty, more richness of
color, more delicacy of shading than the grandest
etching in the parlors of the well-to-do over in Lan-
caster. Here, as I stood on the crest of the hill, my
mind drifted back to old Leesburg, to the field in
which I had discovered the half dozen beautifully-
colored Easter eggs so many years before. Sitting
myself down on a lone mile-stone on the face of which
were inscribed certain letters and numbers, dimmed
by age, I drew forth the time-worn history, now my
guide, friend and companion, and began to search for
the map of the county, to make doubly sure I was on
the right road to Paradise, my future home.

My future home! How could I convince myself
that there was any other place under the broad
canopy of heaven to compare with ''Old Lancaster?"
Thrusting the volume within the fold of my coat, I
took to glancing over the long list of names I had
jotted down in a note-book, of girls and boys whom
I had promised to write an eight-page letter at least
once a day; yes, particularly the girls, who used to
come to visit my inquisitive sister. And yet, after
these many years, I am led to exclaim, how prone we
are to forget old friends as newer ones come to take
their place, as the reader shall in due time learn.

With this ignoble confession which may fall imder
the eye of some of my former girl-friends of the
middle fifties, have you ever thought, dear reader,
how a boy's feelings can fluctuate? One moment they
may be up among the nineties, the next, down to the
zero point. And yet, after all, it is these little changes

136 Cherished Memories.

of spirit that count for much in a bojr's life. Too much
sunshine isn't at all times best; we need the clouds
80 that we may all the better appreciate the difference
between a paddy-cake and a spoonful of calomd jalap.
It's, after all, the boy who bumps up against the
sharp comers, even should he come out second best,
in a tussle, in getting a black eye from his young an-
tagonist, who usually comes out first-best in the end.
And now to the continuation of my journey to Para-
dise.

CHAPTER XI.

Held Up by Tramps — A Garrulous Gatekeeper.

The Amish Schoolhouse.

CONTINUING these reminiscences, only those, per-
chance, who have passed their three-score can
realize that there is a certain glamour that carries one
back to irrevocable youth in which distance gives
enchantment. Were this otherwise, the writer should
never have attempted to set forth what may fall upon
the ears of the over-critical-doubters as ''dead coals."
These dead coals that for more than five decades have
been lying dormant in the chamber of memory, we have
attempted to kindle into a flame; and in so doing it
can hardly be expected that the imagination isn't
to give coloring to some of the recollections that may
have become dimmed by age. What then is to follow,
is the result of personal experience on the one hand
and close observation on the other, with such idealism
as is permitted the chronicler who seeks to make a
faithful portrait of events slightly colored as occasion
requires.

Anyone in starting out from the city of Brotherly
Love for the old town of Lancaster, along the Phila-
delphia pike, can scarcely fail to notice at intervals
of a mile apart certain stone sentinels with letters and
niunbers engraved thereon, many of which have be-
come bedimmed by age, planted over a century ago.

137

138 Cherished Memariet.

It WB8 then, on one of these time-worn sentinds, I
happened to seat myself with the map of the coonty's
history before me, as a means of assuring a lone stroller
that he was on the right road to Paradise! And it
was wbSie in this tmootain state of mind as to whither
I was drifting, that my eyes took in as foriom a pair of
hi^waymen as had ever strolled over, what at that
time I had mistakenly conceived to be the " King^s
Highway," but which I was later to leam« lay some
miles to the north — ^the " Old Road " over which Wash-
ington is credited with having travded on his way to
the town of Lancaster during or after Revolutionary
times.

As it so happened, before I could gather my wits
together to assert myself, came the pressure of cold sted
against my forehead and with it, ''Say, pard, can't
you be makin' yerself 'gre'ble by sharin' part o' th'
milestone with two o' per pals? No use in yer puttin'
on style seein' ye're wearin' a suit o' better fibdn's so
be showin' up yer last 'pull' an' mebbe, it's Jimmy
an' Si may be dividin' up with ye after goin' through
th' Gatekeeper 'long later in th' day."

''No use to pander words, Jimmy; no use in wastin'
time on th' young striplin'; pull th'. trigger on him and
go][through hb pockets later, fur, as he'll diskiver in
th' next worid a smell o' brimstone's more con-vincin'
'an a flow o' moral precepts," added Si, as he stood
scanning the long stretch of macadam roadway with
hb eagle eye. Tapping his pard on the shoulder,
came in a more persuasive tone, "Don't be usin' yer
gun without givin' th' youngster 'nother chance to be

A Scared Boy. 139

deliverin' up, seein' he looks like a innocent sort o' a
town-stroUer, engaged in readin' th' Holy Book, th'
kind me own mother handed me 'fore startin' out
Uvin' on th' rich farmers durin' summer an' puttin'
up at th' county's 'spense when th' snow's deep on th"
highway. "

'*An' now, me tenderfoot," lowering his sharp-shoot-
er, ''it's a sorrowful task it becomes weims to be makin'
ye to be handin' over yer ready cash, an' yer Simday
fixin's fur that o' a tramp's that's seen its best days.
So, be sayin' yer last early momin' prayers, an' be
quick 'bout it, or ye're a goner 'sure's gim's made o'
iron."

In this my frat experience with "country-life", the
only thing in addition to the foregoing that I can re-
call is, "An' now, to be takin' a tramp's 'vice, go back
to yer mother an' tell her that for her pious trainin'
out of yer Bible, she might have been sendin' on
a rough-box fur yer remains." That I was scared
beyond the power of words to express, goes without
saying.

In the town from which I had so suddenly departed
I was full of the spirit of adventure, courage and self-
assurance, ready to assume if needs be, the initiative
in a scramble for supremacy in all games of chance.
But now, almost at the very threshold of my starting
out, all my former daring had turned to sorrow and
wormwood.

However, to regain my perfect equilibrium re-
quired but a minute as I took in the sublimity of
Nature's handiwork, so interesting in anticipation.

140 Cherished Memariee.

And DOW, as I stroll the highway after these fifty-six
years with only these lone sentind milestones to bear
witness of other days and other scenes, I am at times
overcome with a feeling that, after all, my first trip to
God's country was in accordance with the regulation
of a mysterious Providence.

Ascending a hill, after applying at a farmhouse for
a cup of coffee and a slice of homemade bread, the kind
my mother so often baked, I pressed my way forward,
hoping against hope to catch but a glimpse of the
Conestoga team which was nowhere to be seen.

After a time, in glancing along the great stretch of
pike, my eyes instinctively took in another gate with
pole extending the whole distance across the highway.
''Oh, ho! only another 'catch-penny' gate to round
'up' the Huguenots, Scotch-Irish and Mennonites," I
mused as I approached a blink-eyed, middle-aged
keeper dozing contentedly on a slab bench before his
lone place of habitation.

Stepping froward with spirits renewed, I exclaimed,
tapping him gently on the shoulder, "Grood morning,
Mr. Gatekeeper; see anything of a Conestoga team
with six iron grays passing eastward along the high-
way?" Suddenly startled, came, "Three cents, three
cents." Then, "Oh, it's only a youngster arfoot;
thought sure it was one of Sammy's Dutch farmers
always ready to meet the keeper with a 'Goota morr-
ier,' forgetting the 'three cents' owing the gate-
keeper."

"Yes, I see you're still in the land of the living and
haven't been done up by the worst pair of tramps it

Sammy, the Gatekeeper. 141

it was ever my displeasure to meet," came for some-
thing more apropos, still feeling the pressure of cold
steel against my temple.

"Glad you've made a lucky escape; so, take a keep-
er's advice and don't be caught napping without a gim
to be protecting yourself against the scums of creation,
ready at any moment to enter a farmer's hennery,
carrying off every thing but the coop itself."

Glancing into my face with his deep, sunken hazel
eyes after reUeving another passer-by of his "three
cents," he broke into an even jollier mood, and in his
rambling way continued, "Mebbe, you're in search of a
job, as you seem like an honest sort of a chap out from
the town on a stroll for your health such as the cities
don't afford during these bright Spring mornings.
And now," he resumed, drawing his guest to a seat by
by his side on the "slab," "if you're of a restful, con-
tented turn of mind, it's the gatekeeper who might be
employing you for a day or two as a substitute while
visiting his own Malinda down at the village church
where she's getting rid of some of her past sins at
protracted meeting. Ever been down at the mourner's
bench? You haven't? Well, if so it be, and single,
steer clear of the gal with bee of religion buzzing in
your ears, morning, noon and evening, scaring the
very shingles off the roof."

Turning from the humorous, it needs only be said
that "Sammy" was no myth, as years after I came to
know him more intimately as the gatekeeper a half
mile east of Leaman Place at the "cross roads," since
made memorable by a tragedy in which a well-known

142 Cherished Memories.

gatekeeper was cruelly murdered by several high-
way tramps, all within the recollection of the people
of the county.

''Sammy" was short of stature, light of weight, with
a happy disposition when not aroused to anger. But
a word reflecting on his good Malinda, and he would
go to her rescue not alone in words, but at times with
a grip that sent more than one stronger than himself
sprawling to the ground. We well recall how on one
occasion, a decade later, he followed the non-payer
without coat or hat, on a dog-trot to the Hotel Kinzer,
a distance of three miles, and after collecting the
"three cents" due the company, went his way back to
meet his own Malinda with a smile. With a streak of
Irish humor, and a screechy voice, he was the soul of
honor. We loved Sammy, for he was kindly disposed,
generous to a fault, and as full of reminiscences as he
was full of the milk of human kindness.

During the more than four decades that have gone
since I first met this gatekeeper, I have had occasion
to know others. And as I pen these lines, how many
miles wouldn't I be willing to go to recall many a harsh
word as I reached a closed gate on a cold, stormy
night. Oftentimes forgetful that these faithful public
servants are but human, to hurry, maybe, some good
old motherly soul to lift the pole with trembling hand,
and then harshly berated for her tardiness, this was a
cruelty for which there was no reasonable excuse. Then
to quibble over a penny or two, as she stood with
lantern in hand, only too frequently to be compeUed
to find change for a five-dollar bill, this too, as I've

144 Cherished Memories.

girls. To me, this was a revelation. As young as I
was, I couldn't help wondering what kind of human
beings their parents were and wherein they differed
from the ^'celestials" I was so soon to meet down in
Paradise.

The longer I conversed, the more I was to learn that
there was a wide difference of opinion among the
Amish, as they were called, as to the rotundity of the
earth, some believing it was flat, others that it was
square and a few of the more intelligent that it was
spherical in shape. When appealed to for my views
on this weighty question, I hadn't any to offer, not
having the slightest conception whether it was flat,
square or round, nor was I anxious to be informed.

And to his own, he was equally unconcerned, being
willing to teach the subject when required, any way
the patrons wanted it taught, whether round, flat or
square. And yet, from the following story, related by
my pedantic schoolmaster, the reader must judge for
himself as to where he stood on this weighty question.

You know, he went on, as he dangled his pedals over
a rail, ''that there's a lake over in the old country with
no bottom at all ?"

" Never heard of it, as I can recall, " came my prompt
reply.

"Well, I will tell you all about it. My cousin was
showing the pond to a gentleman one day who looked
incredulous like, just as you do yourself, and as my
cousin couldn't stand to have his word doubted by the
fine gentleman, he said: 'By the great Jehovah, I'll
prove the truth of my words,' and so, off with his

The Schoolmaster^ % Science. 145

clothes and in he jumped, dived under and he didn't
come up again at all, at all. But certain it is he wasn't
drowned, sir, for a month later I received a letter from
my cousin in China to send on his clothes."

Apart from this and a few other stories relating to
school-life, I found my schoolmaster friend kindly
disposed, ready to take me with him to an Amish home
of which there were many on both sides of the highway,
with their red bams as distinguished from others here
and there surrounded by stately oaks. As to his
monthly salary, it only amounted to fifteen dollars,
but, then, as he explained, boarding 'round was an item
worth considering, with farm laborers receiving but
fifty cents a day with board thrown in to clinch the
bargain. As to joining him in partaking of an Amish
supper and perchance, a night's lodging; this I politely
refused, having later other matters to consider, one of
which was the carrying the lighter of the household
effects up the winding stair of our new home down in
Paradise.

As this happened to be the year in which the law
created the office of County Superintendent of Schools,
my pedagogic friend seemed to be considerably exer-
cised over such unfavorable results as were to follow in
the new-fangled branches which had already been add-
ed to the school curriculum by Legislative enactment.
Without expressing an opinion, pro or con, as to the
outcome of the examination, of one thing I felt reason-
ably sure, in that Schoolmaster Kessler's theory as to
the rotundity of the earth might involve him in a sea
of trouble with the superintendent, whoever he might
chance to be.
10

146 Cherished Memories.

And now, during the more than half century that has
rolled by, I have seldom passed this lone sentinel of a
school house, whether driving or in a trolley car, that it
hasn't brought up fond recollections of other days.

Colored as may have been a few episodes thrown into
the narrative, this Amish schoolhouse has ever been a
living reality. In how far the teaching of the common
school branches have undergone change, and whether
yet confined to the four fundamentals, the writer is
not prepared to say. The chances are that with the
onward progress in ''child culture," the Amish, as I
have reason to know, from years of experience, pay
their school tax yearly without protest. And as school
directors, they have been foimd among the most pro-
gressive in the county.

However, after a friendly hand-shake, with the sun
well on its downward course, I passed through the
village of Soudersburg, the same to-day as it was a half-
century ago. As to the cause, this may be attributed
largely to the ''inrush" to the cities with their well-
paved streets, electric lights and other daily and
nightly amusements so tempting to the average coim-
try boy, only to return when old age comes creeping on.
And now to Paradise I

CHAPTER XII.

Abrival at Paradise — ^My First Shave — ^A Trial at

Farm-Laborinq.

SOMEWHAT colored as the contents of the pre-
ceding chapter may seem to the incredulous
reader, whose emotions can be imagined, the general
trend of thought contained therein, conveys a con-
dition prevailing along the highway at the time of
which mention is made. However, later in the after-
noon, dust covered, with my boots looking as if they
had passed through a lime kiln, I reached the '' cross-
roads," one finger of the hand-board pointing in the
direction of a large frame church standing on an ele-
vation some hundred yards to the right, the other,
to the left, leading to the "up" country, where re-
sided, if I had been correctly informed, the Mennonite
driver of the Conestoga team.

Glancing at a few articles of furniture standing in
the gateway of a two-story brick dwelling on the
northwest comer of the intersecting roads, I stood
for a moment almost insensible to the fact that I had
at last reached the very threshold of the village of
Paradise. Look where I would for the driver and his
team, they were nowhere in evidence, thus saving
poor Me the trouble of helping imload the heavier
articles, the lighter and more costly, as I've since dis-
covered at all Sittings, receiving the least attention.

147

148 Cherished Memories.

Taking a hasty view of the surroundings, I was
about to slip in at the rear door, when Tarry, the black
canine, started to wagging his tail, thus betra3ring my
presence to my inquisitive sister, and yet observing
the rule '^ silence is golden.'' And for this reason, if
for none other, I've ever since taken kindly to the
terrior breed, knowing at all times how to behave
themselves in never betraying a bojr's secrets which
experience and careful training had taught them to
hold inviolate.

At last, after telling her how I had been waylaid
along the great stretch of pike by a few Indians lurk-
ing 'round ready to dangle my scalp at their belts,
I managed to take a peep into the dining room, where
around the table were seated a goodly number of the
town's celestials, men, women and children, all en-
gaged in partaking of the many good things that had
been sent in by the "reception committee" in advance
of my arrival. And oh, what a ''spread" of pies of
every make and bake, from custard, apple and mince
to others, on which I later managed to exist, imtil the
supply became exhausted. And even down to these
my later years, I am prepared to testify that in no
other place on this mundane sphere are better pies
baked than down in good old Paradise! Where they
learned the art of pie-baking, whether first introduced
by the Mennonites, Huguenots or Scotch-Irish, needn't
be determined, so long as the quality and flavor of these
delicious articles of pastry stiU maintain their old-time
supremacy.

And now, a half century later, without attempting

Pies and Judges. 149

to fathom the depths of the legal mind's miderstand-
ing, I have often wondered how it came that a Justice
of the State Supreme Court later took up his residence
in Paradise, in the mansion widely known as ''Oak
Hill/' standing like an English palace amid a cluster
of oaks and other lofty trees; and wherein as a boy
in our eighteenth year we were one of a "surprise'*
party in pa3dng our respects to the Wardle family.
But later, for the President Judge of the Court of
Lancaster County likewise to take up his smnmer
residence in this "elysian," was for a time a problem
not so easily to be solved. Both may have had reasons
best known to themselves. And yet, I am inclined to
the opinion that, having heard of the delicious pies
baked by the many good house-wives of Huguenot,
Mennonite and Scotch-Irish ancestry, what less could
these two dignitaries do than to hie themselves and
family. off to Paradise where, with a minister of the
Gospel at either end, they might indulge themselves
in the spiritual on the Sabbath, and a plentiful supply
of pies during their otherwise peaceful moments.

While not in the village, and yet in the township
of Paradise, a few miles east, on an elevation, stands
"Bleak House," presided over by still another member
of the legal fraternity, known far and wide as what
might be called the "Traveler's Rest," in which all
are accorded a hearty welcome.

However, with this my first appearance, it needn't
be assumed that I was to go strolling 'round the house
like a honey-bee, tasting of a little of this, that or the
other of the many delicacies without rendering value

150 Cherished Memories.

for value received. Oh, bless you, no I For immedi-
ately on the discovery by the head of the house that
I had at last turned up, I was sent up stairs to screw
up the bedsteads, and string the cord to the small,
round knobs, some of which had been lost enroute,
with others jerking themselves loose as I, with the
other end of the cord in hand, would go tumbling a
double somersault backward with heels high in the
air. And here let it be said, in all seriousness, that
the boy who has never had the pleasure of stringing a
bed-cord, so much in evidence before the patent
spring came into use, has missed the joy of his life.

Rising to my feet, I happened to glance into a small
mirror, and was astonished to find that what I now
most needed was a shave. A shave I Yes, I needed
a shave before I could ever hope to appear before the
goodly people of Paradise! As this was the first time
my face had ever shown signs of what I had often
longed for — a pair of ''bumsides," to find a razor,
brush and soap was the next in order. So, after
rummaging here and there through a bureau-drawer,
these barber supplies were soon brought into use.
As it so happened, all went well with soap and brush;
but when I began to apply the razor, whose edges
resembled the teeth of a wood-saw, my troubles be-
gan. Being left-handed from the cradle up, to get
a grip on the infernal handle with the blade as loose
as the p\u*se-strings of a railroader, I began with the
thought of how the salubrious climate of Paradise had,
during one half hour, stimulated my beard's growth.

Neglecting to turn the key to the door, I had hardly

Celestials Smoked Out. 151

more than applied the blade to the left side of my face
when, lol who should appear but that inquisitive
sister 1 Ashamed! yes, I was mortified to be caught
in such an undignified undertaking! As a result, and
at a moment when least expected, the blasted razor
caught me under the chin. Disappearing as suddenly
as she came, with a chuckle, what could I do? There
was no antiseptic plaster, no nothing to apply to the
glaring wound. But as cobwebs were plenty and not
at this moment otherwise engaged, to apply the
soothing balm, permitted the tonsorial operation to
proceed.

Well, after this labor of love was ended, I was called
down to arrange the joints of the parlor stove, which
had been twisted into every imaginable shape while
being hustled over the nine miles of macadam road-
way. But like an obedient son, awaiting what his
stomach most required, a substantial meal of pies,
the ends were at last joined and run into the chimney.
But as I hadn't taken the precaution to crawl through
the flue to determine the width of the wall, I rammed
the end of the pipe in, how far, I wasn't aware until
the fire was started. Then, to my chagrin, I dis-
covered that the smoke, instead of following the
usual upward course, as in old Lancaster, came
binding out of the stove-door, and in such clouds as
to cause all the windows to be thrown wide open to
prevent the whole concourse of "celestials" from beat-
ing a hasty retreat. Of course, I was to blame, for
where, in the broad universe is there a family of three
girls and only one good-natured boy who isn't made

152 Cherished Memories.

the scape-goat for all the sins known since the stove-
pipe was first invented? To argue the question, one
against three! Well, what is a bojr's opinion to count
for, anjrway, with the old folks generally on the girls'
side?

At last the cause being discovered by one wiser
in dealing with stove-pipes than myself, up went the
smoke and down the windows with a bang; for by this
time I was thoroughly disgusted with coimtry life.
Having paid the penalty for my tardiness, I was ad-
mitted to the ''spread," consisting of more of the
good things than I had ever tasted during my previ-
ous fifteen years over in the townstead, Lancaster.

To these goodly Episcopalians, and equally generous-
hearted Presbyterians who had come to be present at
the ''flitting," I was an entire stranger. However, as
the years ran on, I came to know them not as "celes-
tials," but as peaceful, law-abiding citizens of more
than average intelligence. Divided as they were in
their religious opinions, yet on all questions pertain-
ing to the conmiunity's welfare they were a unit.

At last it soon became an absolute necessity for the
only boy in the family to get a move-on. With the
girls it was somewhat different, for they are as much
of the household as the old grandfather's clock.

During my first night in the strange house, I hadn't
time to weave into concrete form all the many air-
castles conjiu*ed up in my vivid imagination. The
night to follow, however, after having taken a survey
of the village street, which wasn't lined with rubies,
nor given a coating of kerosene, I was less tired, and all

Loneliness of a Village. 153

the better prepared to lay out some course of action
best suited to one who had so suddenly entered upon
that newer life, without a thought of consulting the
doughty "Squire," whom I occasionally passed on
my way to the village store.

My first resolve, as I lay awake trying to escape the
knots, as a fellow might at the present day sitting on
a wire-fence in avoiding the barbs, was to start a
chicken ranch in and around the double-decker bam
that stood in the rear of our earthly place of habita-
tion. How I was to secure my first stock in trade
of Shanghai^, a newly-imported breed, resembling
more the ostrich than the common variety, was a
matter of secondary importance. To my untutored
mind this was a noble resolve. The last thing I
thought of before retiring was the noble hen, and the
number of eggs I could count on her laying each day.
And as the morning opened, the crowing of the rooster
was even more delightful than has since become the
twittering of the sparrow.

To be entirely truthful, for a week or two I was like
one of the lost tribe of the Children of Israel, in search
of anyone of the young men of the village with whom
I might aflaiiate. Without actually knowing it, I was
in a transition state; had entered, as it were, a new-
created world, with everything around me so different
from what it had been over in the town. At last, it
began to dawn upon me that I had entered upon
"coimtry life." And so, I was soon to learn that, of
all places outside of the county work-house, a country
village is the worst. In the town from which I had

154 Cherished Memories.

departed there was always something to do for a
growing boy, and even when not engaged, he could
go his way unmolested, with little danger of being
rounded up and made to give an account of himself.
If occasionally I was sent to the butcher's for a slice
of ham, I was glanced at over the top of his spectacles,
held in abeyance and compelled to answer a dozen
questions as to who I was, whence I came, what I was
doing, and what I proposed doing. In fact, I hadn't
been strolling around a week until it seemed that every
little thing I had ever done amiss was generally known
to every Tom, Dick and Harry, as if a transcript of
some dderman's office had been sent to the head
boss of the town.

If this condition has changed, the fact remains that
in nearly every hamlet the county over, a half century
ago, there was either the minister, deacon or squire
charged with the important duty of keeping tab on the
actions of old and young. But what was I to do?
There was no wood-chopping, no pavements to clean
of snow or ice. No I no nothing suitable to one of
my peculiar temperament. At last, at last, came
my opportunity to turn farmer at corn-planting in a
twenty-acre field a mile distant. As I was to report
the next morning, no time fixed, I arose along about
the hour of seven, and after dressing myself in my
best Sunday-go-to-meeting clothes, hurried over to
the farm in time for breakfast. Imagine my surprise
on reaching the farm-house to find it deserted, the
only outsider being the "defender" of the house, a
ferocious bull-dog, looking up as if to inquire the

ComnPlanting, 155

purpose of a stranger, and perchance, for all he knew
to the contrary, a lightning-rod agent.

Glancing hurriedly in the direction of a ploughed
field, I made haste to get there in time to earn my
first day's wages. A moment later, I was in the
presence of the pessimistic farmer who, after casting
his eyes up at the sun, and asking me, in broken Eng-
lish, if I intended earning a full day's pay, handed
me a hoe, with the admonition that I get a move-on
in making up for lost time. Thus I went my way
following the "droppers" in covering the four or five
grains as best I could. And here, I am willing to be
qualified, that this morning was the longest I had
ever experienced. Would the dinner-horn never blow?
Would my poor, aching back nevermore assume its
upright position? Ah, but at last came the ring of
the iron bell calling one and all to the farmer's weU-
supplied table. Always being a speedy walker, on this
occasion I simply out-did myself in being the first to
reach the water-trough.

As my notes show, after filling myself to the danger-
line on metsel-soup, brode-warsht and paunhaus, I
naturally concluded that an hour's rest on a seat of
the porch was what tired nature most needed after a
hearty meal. Stretching myself out to my full length,
I had hardly more than lost consciousness when I
was awakened by the shrill voice of the disgruntled
tiller, admonishing poor me that the middle of the
day was no time to be taking a cat nap.

With this peremptory command to get a move-on,
back to the field I went with hoe in hand, swear-

166 Cherished Memories.

ing vengeance on the heads of all farmers the world
over. It wasn't long until the blisters began to show
evidence of others to follow before the sun had settled
itself to rest on the opposite side of the meandering
Pequea. Hour followed hour, as I followed the
furrows. At last, at long last, my eyes took in a
cloud, at first about the size of Dan Rice's circus-tent.
On, on it came, compelling all hands to seek cover in
the double-decker bank bam. And it was while stand-
ing alone, hoping it might rain for a month, that the
jaundiced farmer stepped forward, and after handing
over a silver quarter, exclaimed, "Ich gleixt nicht a
city cal; du kendst hame gehen."

Jamming the silver coin into my trousers' pocket,
and without the usual hand-shake, I foimd my way
back to my good old mother, conjuring up some plaus-
ible excuse for my sudden, xmexpected return. Slip-
ping into her hand the "quarter," I then and there
told of my first day's experience at farming, at the
same time showing up the blisters. Instead of what
I expected, a scolding, I was condoled with, told not
to worry, that sooner or later something would turn
up to help me along in the world.

Ahl how many times since have I recalled my
mother's kindly words of good cheer when all seemed
dark aroimdl She was the go-between, always ready
with a kind word or a pleasing smile to drive duU
care away. Yes, between my mother and myself
there was much of "each for all and all for each."

If then I had plenty of consoling words in the home,
what I had most to grieve over was that, before a week

My First Literary Effusions. 157

had gone by, every half-grown lad in the village knew
what had happened over on the farm.

And so, as the spring months passed slowly by,
with the chicken scheme still in embryo, I was ashamed
to look a hen in the face: I had been tried in the
school of farming only to prove a lamentable failure.
More than this, I had lost caste among farmers' sons,
who usually met at the village store and tavern on
each Saturday afternoon.

Thus for a time I kept within doors, writing poetry
— yes, poetry of the higher order for the editor of the
''Strasburg Bee,'' a flourishing sheet, whose circulation
began to grow after my first poetical effusion appeared,
to be read and re-read before many a fireside during
the long winter evenings, as I was led to suppose.

Well, my first "hit" was in describing one of the
first coxmtry girls it was my pleasure to meet, in the
little stone church at Soudersburg. Sending it to the
"Bee," over the nomdeplume of "Naoma," I sat my-
self down to await the first copy to reach me through
the mail. At last it came, and mark my feelings as
I sat reading it over for the tenth time in solitude I

At last growing weary of lack of financial returns,
only to feel how little appreciated was my creative
genius by the people of Paradise, I changed from
poetry to prose, sending my articles to the "Lancaster
Inland Daily," whose circulation extended over a
wider scope of coxmtry. With little more to do than
to meddle with other people's private affairs, it wasn't
long until I had resurrected every little episode occur-
ring in the village for more than two generations.

158 Cherished Memories.

Sometimes I'd head my squibs ''fads and fancies/'
which I felt were so appropriate in showing up a
recently-invented coflfee mill by two of the mechanics
of the town, warranted to turn brown bread-crusts
into the finest Mocha or Java. This brilliant display
of genius I felt sure would eventually hand my name
down among the greatest writers of the world.

Ah, but alas! how little do we boys know the results
so soon to follow our inadvertence. A gentle hint
from the township justice soon brought my corre-
spondence to a close. To the minds of the village
dwellers I wasn't long in learning that the pen or
quill was all right in its place, but something more
was required of the hand that wielded the pen — ^the
handles of a hoe or plow. For this dearly-paid ex-
perience I was to profit in many ways as the years came
and departed.

And now, as a conclusion to this chapter, I have no
apology to make for the writing of my first poetical
eflfusions for the "Strasburg Bee." These, and others
since, have afforded the writer unspeakable pleasure.
Indeed, I can at no time recall when I wasn't ready to
pass over all other matter the paper contained in
searching for my own contributions to the world's
storehouse of knowledge. Others may have passed
them over as so much literary rubbish, but what cared
I? And to further conclude my highest ambition
has ever been to resort to the old scrap-book, and
thus read over and over newspaper clippings, wonder-
ing at times if some other hand than my own had not
penned them. Self-flattery — vanity! Oh, bless you.

Happiness in Writing. 159

no, dear reader, there is a certain satisfaction in feeling
that as the newspaper is the medium for the exchange
of opinions, happy is the man who, in using his pen
to good purpose, isn't above sending his editorial
friend an occasional accoimt of his travels.

And now, how do ye editorial critics like a poet's
philosophy?

CHAPTER Xin.

I Become a Machinist's Apprentice — ^An AmsH

Love-Feast.

HOW the township and village happened to be
named Paradise is somewhat involved in tradi-
tion. It has been said that years before the separa-
tion from the mother township, Strasburg, in 1843, the
elder Witmer, on being asked to give the village a name,
exclaimed, "I know not what it has been to others,
but to me it has ever been a Paradise."

Passing this beautiful sentiment as one dear to the
old man's heart, it is more than probable this hamlet
had been called Paradise by the early settlers long
years before, maybe, by a Mary Ferree, a French
Huguenot who came to the coxmtry in 1709, and was
later buried in the Carpenter's graveyard, a mile south
of the village.

Coming within our recollection, there was among
the village dwellers a type of men who usually held
the balance of power when the question of education
became an issue. Along the turnpike from the Pequea
where it crosses the turnpike, east as far as the Gap,
were a thrifty class of Huguenot, Scotch-Irish and
Mennonites. Rich in all things which go to make a
people prosperous, contented, happy, these various
sects have Uved together in common forbearance; if
not at all times agreeing on all religious and political

160

The Witmer Brothers. 161

questions, they were still a unit in defense of their
sacred rights, as against ignorance, superstition, per-
secution, and have so remained down even to the
present day.

It was not until I had dwelt a year in the village
that I began to catch on to a newer order of events
leading up to a higher intellectual development from
an academic standpoint. The first to arrive after my
own advent was the Rev. B. B. Killkelly, as the pastor
of the Episcopal church on the "hill," and wherein the
Rev. Edward Buchanan, the brother of "James," had
officiated at an earlier date. East of the town, oppo-
site "Oak Hill," stood the Presbyterian church,
erected in 1840, whose membership was composed
principally of Scotch-Irish descendants of culture and
refinement.

Along about the time of my failure as a farmer, I
had thrust aside the pen for a pair of overalls in the
shop of the Bruas. As financial assistance was at all
times necessary, this was furnished by Mr. Amos
Witmer, of whom there were four brothers, Elam,
Hiram, Adam and the aforenamed, with Elam a
resident of Philadelphia. While all were active, pro-
gressive, enterprising, Adam, being the eldest, was
perhaps the most favorably known, connected as he
was down to a ripe old age as director of the Farmers'
Bank of Lancaster. And here it may be said, as a
link connecting those far-off days with the present,
that his goodly wife is still living in the city of Phila-
delphia, in her hundred and third year. Although
nearly a half century has gone by since we last met
11

162 Cherished Memories.

this good woman, fond recollections yet linger in mem-
ory for one whose long and eventful life was rich in all
earthly and spiritual blessings. May her last days be
as peaceful as was her young life at all times filled with
hope and simshine.

And now a few words with reference to the large
frame foimdry and machine shop which stood along
the banks of the Pequea. Where they were located
is now a perfect fairy land of flowers and shrubbery,
turned into an "Eden" by the owner, Mr. Parks,
known far and wide as the ''seed-farmer."

If, as stated in a previous chapter, it was my pleas-
ure to come in touch with Amish life at the Uttle brick
school house a short distance west of Soudersburg,
where I met a number of little tots, it was while an
apprentice that I first fell in with the three sons of
Samuel Kauffman, whose large bank-bam stood
directly opposite the Pequea. Old "Sammy," as they
called him, was one of the most delightful Amishmen
it was ever my pleasure to meet. And as for his good
wife, an elderly person of sweet, motherly face, this
goodly soul has left her image upon memory, never to
be effaced. Of the boys, only one remains. If they
differed from other young men, it was only in their
peculiar garb, their spoken language differing little
from my own.

It is, however, to the first Amish love-feast I ever
attended that a word or two, descriptive of this old-
time custom, may serve to correct an impression only
too general, as to the habits and traditions of a people
bom to the soil from the cradle up. To enter into their

An Amish Love-Feast. 163

home life, it will be necessary to overlook their "garb/!
which, after all, is only outward, with their better
nature beyond the reach of those who view them with
a sort of unmixed curiosity as they walk the streets
with their broad-brim black felt hats, short round-
about, with trousers scarcely extending below the
tops of their raw-hide boots. But who ever heard of
an Amishman begging alms or serving at the coimty's
expense in the home devoted to the poor?

It was on a beautiful Sabbath that I crossed the
wooden bridge spanning the Pequea. The day previ-
ous had been a busy one in the baking of pies, custards
and such other substantial as were to decorate the
table on the bam floor after the religious services had
ended.

On the porch, at an early hour, stood old "Sammy"
casting his eyes here and there awaiting the arrival
of the incoming hosts. Calling us boys to his side,
he said, "Un' now, fine chaps, be sure when you un-
hitch to mark both 'gowl' and conveyance, so that
you make no mistake when hitchin'-up time kume.
You see," he went on, drawing his buckskin breeches
closer 'round his waist, "as you care for der faithful
roadsters, so will 'der gooda' Father care for der
inner wants of the worshippers who may be kumin*
along before high noon to enjoy de many blessings,
first, of a spiritual kind, and later, der best der farm
can produce."

And when the noon hour came, what a concoiu-se
could be seen approaching in traps of every kind and
make! Some without springs to their dearborns,

164 Cherished Memories.

others in spring-boards, and yet others on horseback,
as they came galloping, with their black hats covering
their foreheads, with hair cut long from back to front,
and yet not so short as to render themselves liable to
church discipline; not, however, that the width of their
hats was to admit their spirits into the New Jerusalem;
no, not by any means. For, indeed, were such an
edict to be issued, what would become of all the city
girls with their hats of every imaginable shape, color
and style?

What followed as they crowded the bam floor is
easily described. At the end of the long rows sat the
goodly bishop, a kindly-disposed, elderly Amishman,
sXL ready to partake of what was to follow an hour or
two's preaching and silent praying. With the services
ended, was ushered in the long table aroimd which sat
the multitude. And such a *' spread 1'' When all was
over and the festivities ended, to the barnyard the
young men went their way to engage in a game of
comer-ball. Here and there the girls played hide-
and-seek, while those older in years betook them-
selves to the old-fashioned sitting room to talk over
the crops and such other topics as the farm usually
suggests.

At the close of this day, I went my way with a feel-
ing of friendship for the Kauffman boys. And ever
after, on meeting "Sammy," "Mike" and "Christ,"
it was with a hearty hand-shake. Nor have I forgotten
that only one remains. But the grandsons, somehow
or other, they never pass me by without a kind word,
recalling the days when their fathers and I had played
in the double decker so many years before.

Attending Summer School. 165

At the close of my two-years' service as an appren-
tice, it was only natural that I should assume some
little importance among the leading business men of
Paradise, who were not slow in recognizing true worth,
on the principle that it always pays a boy in the end
to be making himself generally useful, even at $1.50
per week, and no tips.

Feeling the need about this time of some additional
book-learning, I began to look around for the means
of paying my way in attending a summer school that
was about to open in a log house, near Mr. Jacob
Eshleman's mill, imder a teacher who had been en-
gaged by the parents to instruct their sons in such
branches as the common school curriculum failed to
provide. As I was without the means necessary to
pay my way, to go a-borrowing was not to be consid-
ered for a single moment. As better luck would have
it, I secured a contract for the making of twenty-seven
window frames and blinds in a bam directly in the
rear of our home, and wherein I had erected an im-
provised work-bench. Starting at sunrise, and con-
tinuing after school hours, I had earned sufficient
not only to pay my weekly board, but my tuition as
well.

After a time our school was moved to the "center"
building, close by the toll-gate, a short half mile east
of Leaman Place. And here, at this opportune mo-
ment, I have an episode to relate and an error to cor-
rect. Among the boys who attended this school was
as fine a young "heathen" as ever kicked the panel of
a school-room door in. During intermission, I was

166 Cherished Memories.

inside holding the fort against all outside intruders.
But at an unfortunate moment; in came the panel, and
as my face was too close to the obstruction, my right eye
became as black as an Amishman's round-rim beaver.
Ever since that unfortunate occurrence I have been
compelled to listen to how this same youngster of
more than half a century ago had blackened my eye!
But I have long since forgiven "Milton," now the
president of the First National Bank of this city. As
a boy, he was the soul of honor; as a man well up in
his three-score, he is still one of the writer's most
devoted friends.

However, with this slight tribute, well deserving
many more, the time came when the school moved
in the new brick building close by "Oak Hill." It
was then that Mr. Amos Hurst, our beloved old school-
master from Muddy Creek, gave place to a Mr. Rodgers
as principal, with Professor McGibony, of the cele-
brated McGibony family, as first assistant; Horace
Yimdt, Esq., now of Reading, second, and Dr. Leaman,
third assistant. After the resignation of Prof. Rodgers,
Mr. Yundt became principal. Later, the Hon. W. U.
Hensel attended this school as a lad of twelve.

But we must pass over much that comes tapping at
memory's portals. Having imbibed the contents of
Kenyon's Grammar and sufficient of the other branches
to make my way through the world, my next step was
to join the Paradise Literary Society. Here, in Witmer
Hall, we met almost nightly, discussing such weighty
questions as predestination, foreordination and others
which the village parsons seldom tackled except under

Professor Karl Merz. 167

feax and trembling. As a result, it wasn't long until
I had written essays on every conceivable subject
since the subsidence of the deluge. Of course, I would
occasionally look up some century-old magazine from
which I could appropriate enough matter to make
discovery an impossibility.

To close this chapter without reference to the Para-
dise Female Seminary would, I feel sure, never be
overlooked by the many beautiful young ladies who
attended this institution of learning during the later
fifties. Living, as many of them are, in the halo of a
ripe old age, few can fail to recall their instructor in
instnunental and vocal music, the late Professor Karl
Merz. Known at the time for his kindness of heart,
and as a composer of national reputation, he later
became instructor in the Oxford Female Seminary
and still later, at the head of the Conservatory of
Music in the Wooster University in Ohio. As the
editor of "Brainard's Musical World,'' he ended his
short life beloved by all who knew him.

It was during our leisure we together had constructed
a boat, and after launching it on the Pequea, invited
a number of ladies to go rowing. We had hardly
more than started from the shore when through some
cause. Miss Annie Killkelly's medallion, containing
her venerable father's picture, fell overboard. This
mishap ended our pleasure trip.

And now to the sequel: An hour later I returned to
the water's edge, and after disrobing, plunged into five
feet of water. FeeUng 'round with my feet, at last I
felt something, and diving down, drew up the missing

168 Cherished Memories,

medallion. As this most amiable lady is residing in
the city of Washington, it is the hope she may in no
way remain forgetful of this episode which up to this
moment had rested half forgotten in the writer's
memory.

CHAPTER XIV.
The Campaign op '56 — Fox Hunting — A Judge's

TUKKEYS.

DURING the campaign of '56, then in my nine-
teenth year, I was too busily engaged in the
discussion of abstract questions to manifest more than
passing interest in the Buchanan-Fremont election.
However, on a bright October afternoon there came
driving up to our house an omnibus containing a half
dozen political speakers on their way to a Democratic
meeting billed to be held at the village tavern the
same evening. The principal speaker, as I recall, was
a young lawyer, the late Samuel H. Reynolds, then
noted as a rising attorney of more than average ability
as a public speaker.

This coterie of distinguished gentlemen I should
long since have forgotten except for one of the songs
they sang:

" Oh Buck and Breck, youll surely win the day,
The woolly horse has gone to grass, so all the. people say."

After indulging themselves in a few others, they
drove their way to the hotel, aroimd which a motley
crowd had already congregated. But as I was noway
in sympathy with the election of " Buck" and " Breck,"
I was not present to report the proceedings for the
"Inland Daily."

There came a time later when I was called upon

169

170 Cherished Memories.

by a committee to assimie the role of violinist at the
village imi in the absence of the town fiddler, and
where a ''dance" was awaiting a musician. Flattered
somewhat at this compliment, with fiddle encased in
green bag, a short half hour later I sat upon an im-
provised platform the center of attraction. At a
later hour, as I homeward went my way, I felt I had
been raised a peg or two, at least in my own estima-
tion, if not in that of the dancers. But it wasn't long
until I discovered I had lost caste with the goodly
pastor, disposed as he was to look with disfavor on
these worldly promiscuous gatherings. Prone as I
was to keep this, my first departure from the straight,
narrow path, a hidden secret, I was soon to learn that
things going on at a country tavern usually managed
to spread with a sort of lightning rapidity.

For a time, until Thanksgiving eve, I gave the inn
a wide berth. But once having tasted of the sweets
of a night's outing, I wasn't long in falling from grace.
Learning that a turkey-raffle was being held, I con-
cluded to take but a peep at the "dice-throwers,"
making sure that none of the ''elect" was in evidence.

Without going into any extended explanation, it
so happened, I started home with Mr. Turkey Gobbler,
at the risk of only two levies. That the gobbler was
most thoroughly enjoyed the Sabbath following by
the rector and his good wife, who had been invited to
the feast, goes without saying, my well-concocted
story of how it came into my possession never for a
moment being questioned, at least while the turkey-
dinner was in progress. Later, however, there was

Eli, the Fox Hunter. 171

more or less commotion among the church-goerS; in
no way redounding to my credit as treasurer of the
Sunday-school on the "hill." But as the "auditing
committee" bore witness, none of the Sabbath-school
collections went the way of the turkey-raffling.

Passing this h'ttle episode as a picture from "the
school of life," if there was the written law supposed
to govern all classes in accordance with a certain high
standard of morality, there was also the unwritten
mandate which usually held the balance of power
among those little inclined to follow the dictates of the
town's literati. Between these two irreconcilable
forces there was at all times an irrepressible conflict —
the one class looking after the spiritual, the other, the
common affairs, notably the political. Of course,
even among the latter there were exceptions, when
the most hardened sinners would gather 'round the
mourners' bench, in the stone meeting-house of the
village, a short mile west of the Pequea, only to fall
from grace when the fox-season set in.

The fox season! Turn back the dial of time, search
the records of history for a time when the "hunters"
weren't ever on the alert to follow Reynard in a little
playful gallop over the hills to his capture or snug
hiding-place.

And this recalls the yam that used to be told by
old Eli, the fox-hunter, as he sat before the inn with
feet crossed, surrounded by a coterie of young and
old sports. It seems that the fox-hunter had been
having a spell of melancholy for a playful "run," and
as his score of beagles were growing restless for a

172 Cherished Memories,

"spurt," he caught an to a way of tickling their
fancies by a make-believe until the time for winter
sports began.

Galling his spreckled-face Ebenezer to his side one
August evening, he exclaimed, "Eben, me edicated
chap, as it's Deacon Smythers who'll be spendin' th'
night with yer parent to be on hand for early service
in th' momin' to be 'sistin' th' parson in baptisin' all
th' hardened sinners, it might be well in blackenin'
th' deacon's raw-hides, to be takin' this fox's foot
which th' old man's been savin' from th' last hunt.
An' be sure, Eben, to be warmin' it good and hot
'fore rubbin' it over th' deacon's kips, for ye see, they
haven't been greased since they first come from th'
cobbler, who's to be baptised himself for th' makin'
of them rawhides.

"An' so, comin' momin," chuckled the relator, his
sides bursting with laughter, "when th 'aged deacon
started over to meetin', I jis' let go th' whole score o'
beagles for th' benefit o' their health. But gee whiz!
when they got th' scent, away they went howlin' to
beat th' Reamstottle band. Tell ye, men, it was a
happy time for th' beagles, but a sorry one for th'
head-pillar o' th' faith who went movin' 'long in th'
middle o' th' road, with his broad brim straw hat
kiverin' his gray locks.

"Lookin' back over his left shoulder, thinkin' it
only a little playful Sabbath-day momin' run, th'
worthy Deacon Smythers stood kind o' enjoyin' th'
sport, as deacons mostly do 'cept on th' Sabbath,
when their minds be occupied with th' thoughts o'

Deacon Smythera' Predicament. 173

baptisin' a few o' th' converted fox-hunters. But,
in th' name o' Eli, th' fox hunter! when the whole
pack got to surroundin' th' head pillar, fightin' their
way in gettin' at them raw hides, it was a sorry sight
for even meself to be viewin' without goin' to th' old
man's rescue.

"First he got to nmnin' this way, then that, with
the howlin' kritters snappin' at his heels thinkin' they
be some o' th' foxes I'd been keepin' housed in th'
cellar for th' comin' Thanksgivin' nm. Yes," contin-
ued Eli, rising to his feet, as if ready to mount his old
nag for the chase, " I was standin' on th' porch watchin'
th' fracas, as th' deacon stood kickin' in wardin' off a
calam'ty. First, he started to coaxin' th' beagles,
then to prayin', an' sich prayin', causin' th' people
to thinkin' camp meetin' hed broke out in th' middle
o' th' road. Seein' quotin' Scripture wasn't bringin'
th' answer, he got to sayin' cuss words; yes, men,
cuss words, an' in th' plain English, makin' even th'
fox hunter a wee bit sad at th' thought o' pious deacon
des'cratin' th' Sabbath in th' presence o' the church-
goers."

Before the fox-hunter could reach the sequel, old
"Natty" Trout chimed in: "Ever heard of how one
of the judges of the county court got to raising turkeys
back of his country homestead near by the colored
meeting house? No? Well, it was at a time when
the court was running short of criminal cases that the
jedge, after sending up for twenty years a poor colored
person for doing nothin' more than sittin' on his fence
durin' the dark of the moon listenin' to the sweet
music of his turkey-hens and gobblers.

174 Cherished Memories,

"Yes, men," he went on, sipping away at a five-
cent glass of Kenagy's old rye, "the judge may have
been correct in his suspicions that Sambo's ears weren't
trained for sweet music as was his taste for roast tur-
key. And so, to give the court his dues, he had best
of reasons to think the colored parson wasn't hanging
'round his turkey-ranch listening to his favorite gob-
bler singing 'Me Old Kentucky Home,' one of the
tunes it had learned before being imported from
an old Southern plantation to improve the Lancaster
county stock, which at the time was showing signs of
becoming extinct.

"It was 'bout four each morning when one of them
sweet singers was missing from the court's turkey
ranch. This set the jedge to thinking how to circum-
went Sambo! Looking he^e and there for a safe
roosting-place, at last the court spied an old cherry
tree, standing close by his bed-room window; planted,
some said, long before the deluge had subsided, and
dying of old age."

Relighting his cob-pipe, which had been overlooked,
as it frequently had been, when his mind was given to
reminiscing, he resimied: "Calling all them hens and
gobblers 'fore him like a company o' 'Continentals'
on dress parade, just 'fore roosting-time, the jedge
got to tell'ng them all about Sambo's love for the^r
sweet music: Said the court, persuasive-like, 'The
opinion of his honor is, that the only safe roosting-
place be on the topmost limb of the cherry-tree beside
his bed-room window, where he can be keeping an
eye on ye."!

A Black Siren. 175

"Of course, turkeys of sense, took the court's ad-
vice?" chimed in one of the unsophisticated, who
had never had the pleasure of turkey-raising

'*Kind o' think a few of the wiser did, and others
didn't; for, 'long about roosting-time it was the col-
ored parson's business to be skylarking 'round waiting
for the ceremonies to begin, and begin they did, bless
you, men! First, one then another began to flop his
wings ready to obey the mandates of the owner of the
ranch. So, up they flew, with the judge eyeing them
sitting one beside the other close to his bed-room
window. Looking up, he called and said 'he'd be
responsible for the stronger limb, but if anything
happened to the weaker branches of the tree, the
fowls of the air would have to depend on their wings.'

"Anything of a serious nature happen?" came the
interruption of a young farmer, by way of learning all
there was concerning the raising of turkeys not con-
tained in the latest treatise on horticulture and agri-
culture.

"Anything happen?" repeated the relator, glancing
at his stupid friend for failing to catch on. "Happen,
bless you I Along about four in the morning there
was the greatest kind of a commotion. Hearing the
gobble, gobble, the judge ris right up out of his dreams,
when, there on the window-sill stood his favorite
gobbler, beseeching him to be hunying down as fast
as his pedals could propel his three hundred pounds of
avoirdupois. Looking up, with tears in his eyes, there
sat his favorite, the only one left to make merry over;
the others, barkening unto the voice of Sambo, telling

176 Cherished Memories,

them how the tree was dying of old age, got to following
him of their own volition into the wilderness. Acquit
the parson? Better believe; for, according to the
sworn testimony before his honor, it was the sweet
music of Sambo in imitation of 'Me Old Kentucky
Home,' that robbed the court of his winter supply of
turkeys, compelling him to be living on salt shad
during the balance of the season of his discontent."
Ever since, as I'm informed, there's been a short sup-
ply of turkeys in Paradise.

1

CHAPTER XV.

Examined by County Superintendent Crumbaugh.

My First School.

IT was sometime during the spring of '58 that I
started a-foot before sunrise for the village of
''Blue Ball/' in East Earl township, a distance a
dozen miles or more from Paradise, and where, as
I had been informed, County Superintendent John
S. Crimibaugh was to hold an examination. Reaching
said point, wrapped in a shawl, such as were commonly
worn at the time instead of overcoats, I entered the
class with some few of my own age, others old enough
to have been my grandfather, at least so they seemed
at the time. To my great surprise, as well as to my
inward pleasure, at the close I was handed a small
blue paper on which were inscribed certain numbers,
all "threes" and ''fours," one of the "fours" indicat-
ing that I had missed only twenty out of the thirty
words, but what mattered it I It stated the holder
was entitled to teach school; of this there could be no
mistake, for on the lower right-hand comer was the
examiner's autograph signature written in his fine,
delicate hand.

Seeking a secluded nook, I read and reread it over to
my inward satisfaction with a feeling that I had
passed safely the ordeal over which I had for some
days given myself much worriment as to the outcome.

12 177

178 Cherished Memories.

As I sat alone, handling what I considered equal to
a college diploma, I couldn't help rejoicing over my
good luck, as I thought what a surprise it would be
to my inquisitive sister on my return to Paradise.
All that was now necessary to fill my cup to overflow-
ing was to get a school among the ''Dutch" of this
the "up'* country.

To the old school-masters I looked for congratula-
tions, but as they spoke a language difficidt to under-
stand, I pressed my way into the room where the
directors were giving out the schools to the various
candidates. For a time I stood in their presence with
certificate in hand, but not a word could I understand
of the bedlam of voices. At last the secretary, a short-
set German, reached for my paper, and after glancing
it over through steel spectacles, exclaimed, ''Kendst
dere nicht der deitsch sprecha?" Awaiting a reply,
it was passed to the other members, with eyes riveted
on the "threes" and "fours." Putting their heads
together over the table, they held a sort of pow-wow;
and a moment later I left the room with my tempera-
ture nearing the zero point.

Stepping into the bar-room, I was met by the
goodly father of Horace Yundt, who, noticing the
pressure under which I was resting, kindly advised
me, if at all anxious to become a teacher, to seek a
school in an English-speaking community where the
German was not required to be taught; for this friendly
advice I felt more kindly disposed toward the Dutch
secretary, who had returned my certifi-cote, as he
called it.

Waiting for a School. 179

On my homeward journey the morning foUowing,
I took occasion to let every passer-by who looked like
a "schulemaister" (of which I was one in embryo)
imderstand that I too was one of that noble profession
of teaching the young idea "how to shoot." If I
knew little of what "keeping school" actually meant,
I still had the sweet consolation of knowing I had
a certificate, and woe be to the highwayman ready to
rob the possessor of what was now equal to a legacy.

At last, as I entered the pearly gates of Paradise, it
seemed to me that everybody within a square mile
knew or thought he knew that something out of the
usual had happened, as without a moment's hesita-
tion, I rushed pell-mell into the house, saying, as I
swung the certificate over my eldest sister's head,
"Take a good look at this, and tell your brother if he
isn't deserving of a gold medal."

Up to this time, it had never occurred to poor me
in my enthusiasm that a certificate without a school
was like a boat on the Pequea without oars. How-
ever, to frame it and hang it beside the profile of the
immortal George Washington, might, in addition to
serving as an ornament, lead the young ladies of the
seminary across the way to know that George and I
were bom in the same month of glorious old February.
Later it occurred to me that certificates had been
stolen, and to have this occur meant my eternal ruin.
And so, what less could I do but to carry it nearest
my heart?

As day followed day without a line from anyone of
the more progressive school boards in search of a

180 Cherished Memories.

teacher capable of "keeping school," I began to grow
weary with a feeling of what might happen to the
educational status of the county. While in this delu-
sive state of mental suspense, my eyes instinctively
took in an "ad" in the "Strasburg Bee," calling for a
teacher well qualified to teach one of the borough
schools.

"Oh, hoi and what can this mean?" I continued
to soUloquize, glancing the "threes" and "fours"
over. "A teacher well qualified!" As no mention
was made of the length of the term nor of the salary
per month — ^this I took for an oversight on the part
of James McPhail, the secretary.

Hurrying to Leaman Place, I boarded the fast ex-
press running between there and Strasburg. As the
locomotive sped its way along at the rate of five miles
per hour, I was afiforded ample time to jump on and
off, picking an occasional berry as the engine puflfed
its way monotonously along. Growing impatient, I
approached Engineer Beahm with the modest request
that he hurry the shebang along. With a knowing
shake of the head, I was politely informed that, owing
to a short supply of rails, he was compelled to wait
until the track-workmen had taken one from the rear
placing it in front of the engine. How many were
thus taken up at one end and fitted at the other, my
diary fails to record. However, after many delays,
I reached the borough with my certificate well pro-
tected against all intruders. Of those who left the
train the only one whose name I can recall was the
Hon. Thomas H. Burrowes, who, as I later learned,
was on a visit to his home town.

Start School Teaching. 181

Those familiar with the saddlery-shop nearly oppo-
site Massasoit Hall fifty-two years ago, might have
seen a young man full of enthusiasm enter, and where,
to his surprise, he met six gentlemen — Robert and
William Spencer, Christian Rowe, William McPhail,
attomey-at-law, and his venerable father, James, the
secretary of the school board, and one other, whose
name I cannot recall. If the president was slow in
asking to see my certificate, I wasn't anxious to pro-
duce it, for, by this time I had learned the full mean-
ing of 1, 2, 3, 4, as noted on the lower margin of the
printed form.

Asked if I had ever "kept school," and if I thought
I coidd manage a half hundred youngsters, I repUed,
with all my self-assurance, that I thought I could.
Then came the question of salary — ^twenty-five dollars
per month, term, six months. Would I be willing to
accept the position on the terms stated if elected?

"Great heavens!" thought I, as I mentally figured
out the siun total — one hundred and fifty dollars!
more money than I had ever before earned in six
months in all my life! "Yes, gentlemen, I shall be
only too glad to accept, provided I am elected." And
elected I was.

The first Monday of September, '58, opened bright
and clear as I, for the first time, entered the little brick
school house, a photograph of which appears on an
opposite page. As I well remember, it stood directly
south of Echtemacht's hotel, some distance removed
from the main street. The desks and benches were
of the crudest home-made kind, with cannon stove in

182 Cherished Memories.

the center of the twenty-four by twenty-eix room. In
one comer was the rusty tin bucket with an equally
rusty tin cup, from which all drank, with no thought
of bacteria or other of the more prevalent diseases of
the present day.

Of this school, so dear to a yoimg-old man's heart,
a volume might be written; and as to the town of
half a century ago, I can well recall when it was a
center of learning, of high literary culture, which it
has doubtless maintained down to the present day.
And yet, it is strange how one's ideas undergo change
concerning things we had set our heart upon when we
were a part of the moving multitude.

It was along in the middle of February, and at an
unlooked-for moment, that the school was visited by
the John S. Cnunbaugh, who a few weeks later passed
away, in his twenty-seventh year. Little more needs
be said of this broadminded Christian gentleman ex-
cept what the writer's "One Hundred and Fifty Years
of School History" contains: "His life was a short
one, and yet it was an inspiration, a life not measured
by years."

Passing over much of interest, how can I forget one
of my first interviews with "Pappy McPhail," a man
beloved by all who knew him. Sitting in his saddler-
shop, he started to saying, "You may not be as highly
educated as some of the young college professors who
have been making application for the school. But
as it is not so much a college training our children
need, if you will drill them well in the four fundi^-
mentals — ^reading, writing, spelling and common artih-

fc. • .•s.

Teaching the Four Fundamentals. 183

metic — ^the other branches will follow in due course of
time. Yes, young man, " he went on, in his fatherly
way, "lay a good foundation in the four branches
named, and the board will have no fault to find with
your school-mastership."

Accepting this wholesome advice from a plain citi-
zen, it was the ambition of my life during nine years
to follow, to look well after the four fundamentals.

Some things have been forgotten, others, as fresh
and green in memory as the last of the closing year
1858, when we stood on the platform in Massasoit
Hall reciting Prentice's "Closing Year, "lis Midnight's
Holy Hour." Apart from this we have often had occa-
sion to glance in upon the two-story brick dwelling
on Decatur street in which dwelt the Christian woman
with her two daughters, with whom we boarded during
our six-months' stay in Strasburg. Then there was
the small brick church we attended, and not so far
distant, the drug store in which our young, old friend
Joseph Potts was the all-around busy apothecary's
clerk. He yet remains as one among the very few
of the writer's dearest and nearest friends.

No, we have no fault to find with Strasburg, even
though but slight improvement has been made as a
commercial center during these fifty-two years. It's
a goodly place to dwell with its excellent schools,
which for a decade were under the principalship of
Mr. Charles B. Keller, of this city. Following in our
footsteps later, he deserves credit for bringing the
schools of "Old Strasburg" to a high degree of pro-
ficiency. Nor are he and his successors to blame that

184 Cherished Memories,

many of the young folks after graduating depart for
other fields of labor, only to return later to end their
days in this borough of peace and plenty. And here
it may be said that it seems to have grown into a
proverb that, while many of the towns are just the
place for girls and boys to be bom, reared and edu-
cated, they are no longer the places wherein to dwell
down into a ripe old age. But as the race in life is
usually to the survival of the fittest, the imsolved
problem is one yet to be determined, namely, whether
in the end those who have departed from the towns,
the farm, for the over-crowded centers of trade and
commerce have, all things considered, bettered their
condition. The very few undoubtedly have, but it
is very much to be questioned whether the great ma-
jority, as old age comes creeping on, haven't had time
to regret the day they ever departed from the old
homestead. Every city has its living examples of
those who have not only wasted the products of the
farm, but the farm itself, amid the glittering shadows
of city life, where, when one man goes down under
financial distress, a dozen others stand ready to step
in to take his place, perchance, to regret the day they
ever left God's country. But it's the old, old story,
told and retold through the columns of the news-
papers. And yet, imless our own observation counts
for naught, the time must come when a reaction must
set in to maintain a just equilibrium between city and
rural life.

Fairview, to which we moved in '59, couldn't well
be considered a village imless one single house and

Fairview^ 185

a small frame shop so constituted it. However, be-
fore the time of railroads, it was one of the best known
hostelry's standing at the intersection of three roads,
and commanding a view not to be excelled the county
over. As the township line separating Strasburg
from Paradise ran through the middle of my bed-room,
I had the credit at times of sleeping with feet in one
township and my head in the other. It was here, at
this most delightful point, that father carried on a
small industry until the breaking out of the war.

Not to overlook one other episode: it was on my
return from Millersville that the wedding occurred,
in that my now beloved sister, who had so frequently
been a thorn in my side, became the wife of the since
departed Prof. Karl Merz. What might seem like
another coincidence, his field of labor, until the be-
ginning of the conflict, was in a small Virginia village,
not so many miles removed from Leesubrg.

With this slight departure from the thread of the
narrative, the reader's attention shall be directed to
the "up" country, where the "Dutch" settled nearly
a century and a half before.

CHAPTER XVI.

Intercoxtbse in the 50*8 — HicKOBY Ggove School.

Menno Mengen.

AT the close of a month's stay at Millersville, I
was compelled to foot my way back to Fairview,
not that I didn't prefer even the rickety stage that
bumped its way along before the time of the troUey,
but for the reason that footing it was more economical,
with my last dollar gone for board and tuition. And
yet these four short weeks were sufficient to enlarge
the scope of my vision; in other words, I had learned
to think for myself and to determine questions not
contained in the course of study.

This coming in touch with instructors of the higher
order, and students from all parts of the county, re-
sulted in forming close friendships which I have always
valued most highly. Only a few remain to be met at
a Director's Convention or Teachers' Institute. There
were other advantages, at least so we young teachers
used to imagine. This recalls my second examination
at Intercourse, following that held at the ''Blue Ball"
the year previous. Being the custom of the Superin-
tendent to ask what school was last attended, it was
with a sort of pride that I called out "Millersville."
Whether this prompt answer resulted in reducing the
"threes" and "fours" of the year previous to "ones"
and "twos," would be an admission I am in no way

186

The Three-SheU Game. 187

disposed to make. If, however, as was the case, I
had succeeded in getting rid of the "four" in ortho-
graphy for a "one-minus," it wasn't owing so much to
the fact that I had spent four weeks at the Normal, as
to the way I had applied myself to Webster's small
blue spelling-book, to be followed by a book contain-
ing one thousand "jawbreakers," which the exami-
ner took pure delight in dictating to the class standing
at the blackboard, with an eye to a few of us copying
the more difficult from the "crack" speller of the
class.

However, my first acquaintance with the village of
Intercourse was in '55, when I was persuaded to attend
a horse-race along the great stretch east of the town
known as the "Old Road" or King's Highway, where I
came near losing my only "fiver" in an innocent game
in which three small "cups" and an atom the size of
a pea, constituted the manipulator's stock in trade.
The trick, as I recall, was to teU under which cup the
pea was located. As I, not unlike one of Mark Twain's
" Innocent's Abroad, " was among the first to observe it
protruding out of the side of one of the three cups, I
pressed my way forward with "fiver" in hand ready to
double it in getting something for nothing, when I was
hustled aside, possibly on account of my age, for an-
other "greeny." But lo, when the cup was raised,
presto the small white ball was nowhere in evidence,
and the other fellow's "fiver" went where the wood-
bine twineth. It was, however, a valuable lesson in the
"school of experience," worth all the prior knowledge
ever gained from the school text-book.

188 Cherished Memories.

At the time and for some years later this "wide-
open" hamlet was the Paradise of the sporting fra-
ternity, where everything went, as the saying goes,
from a fox chase to a horse race. Nor were the cele-
brities confined alone to Lancaster city; they were as
much in evidence in this "go-as-you-please" town as
were the two taverns in full blast in dealing out the
"tangle-foot" to the numerous frequenters who gath-
ered therein.

Among the hangers-on, as the story runs, was an
eccentric individual with a wooden leg of the rough,
home-made kind, extending well above the knee.
Imbibing too much of the "elixir of life," he betook
himself to the haymow. On awakening, the morning
following, he declared that old Satan had performed
a surgical operation on the wooden pedal, by ampu-
tating it with a common saw midway between the
end and the knee. However, after this surgical opera-
tion, he was supplied with one of the automatic,
double elastic kind by the "imps" of the village.

And now, before enlarging on my second school
experience, let it be said that the change that has
since marked the progress of this once "wide-open",
hamlet has been phenomenal. The sentiment of the
dwellers seems to have entirely changed, with schools
and a full corps of lady teachers of the higher order.
However, only a very few of the writer's old-time
friends remain; among them being Jacob Rutter,
former County Commissioner, whom we learned to
know as a boy, and whose venerable father, since
passed away, was as much of an all-'round sport as

Searching a Boarding House. 189

he was respected for his many loving qualities of mind
and heart. If the two hotels are still doing business
at the old stands, they are orderly conductedi showing
that the older order has changed, giving place to a
higher social and intellectual life.

It was some weeks after my appointment over that
of a yoimg lady who had presented a petition signed
by all the patrons, that I went my way in search
of the "Hickory Grove" school house, standing
by the roadside well protected by the overhanging
branches of a venerable oak. There were, of course,
some things I hadn't considered when, for the second
time, I made application for a school in a locality
where the idiom was largely in evidence. It seemed,
from the few people with whom I conversed, that I
had crossed a certain line of demarcation which had
separated the Huguenots and others of English pro-
clivities from a class called the "Dutch," with a
vernacular so pronounced as to make them an almost
exclusive sect unto themselves. This imaginary line
I came to realize during later years, was the Pennsyl-
vania Railroad.

Having satisfied myself as to the location of the
school, if not to its size and outward appearance,
built possibly a half century before, I went my way
in search of a boarding place, entirely unconscious of
the deep prejudice existing, not only against the
school board, but against myself as well. Reaching a
farm house, I knocked at the door, where I was met
by a farmer, whose only reply was, after learning my
errand, that he had already boarded one "schule-

190 Cherished Memaries.

maister'' and, in his opinion, that was one too
many.

Discouraged abnost to the point of despair, it was
after making other fruitless efforts that I was rewarded
for my time and trouble in meeting the identical farmer
who had driven the Conestoga wagon with its span of
six grays from Lancaster to Paradise some five years
before.

As it happened to be the noon hour, I was kindly
invited in to partake of my "midawk essa," as ex-
pressed by one we shall designate Menno Mengen.
Taking my seat on the long slab bench, I sat with eyes
centered on the blue washed walls of indigo, alto-
gether so different from those of the cosy dining room
over in Strasburg. Instead of table spread with pure
white linen, was the plain oilcloth. With the bright-
est of silverware lacking, were knives and forks with
bone handles, pewter spoons and dishes of variegated
colors of every make and shape, leading me to im-
agine that they had been handed down from the time
Mengen's great-great-grandfather built the first stone
cabin in a wilderness. But what signified the walls
if even bare of George Washington's profile, as my
eyes took in the bountiful "spread," with pies of every
make and bake; all to be partaken of with a spirit of
thankfulness, as a moment later came Menno Mengen's
long drawn-out silent prayer to the Giver of all good
things, ending with "A-m-e-n, a-m-e-n."

To state my errand was hardly necessary, the news
of the coming of the new teacher had already passed
from farm-house to farm-house, and as bad news, like

A Good Mennonite Mother. 191

weeds, is apt to spread, so all kinds of rumors were
afloat. That a well-known young woman of influence
and standing should be compelled to give way to an
entire stranger, was more than the patrons could en-
dure with becoming equanimity; and more especially
among a people well-grounded in their prejudices,
likes and dislikes.

That Menno Mengen had, among others, signed the
petition in favor of the yoimg Miss, was considered
the same as a protest against any other who might
be sent to teach the school. And it was not until the
next morning that Nancy, taking me aside, told me
that after a night of prayer they had reached an
agreement that I was to remain as a boarder, provided
their accommodations suited me. I was further
assured that three of their grandchildren should be
among the first to attend the school, the youngest a
bright-eyed girl of thirteen, named Beckie.

With this encouragement, this goodly Mennonite
mother took a seat by my side, and after hearing the
sound of my voice, said, in her own, low, modulated
tone, "I am only too happy to know that you have
been sent to take the place of Rudolph Grottlieb, the
former teacher, who, instead of teaching the plain
English, taught the children a mixture of both lan-
guages, the result of which is, that our children have
become lisping-tongue-tied, with an accent resemb-
ling that of Mengen's, who has never been able to
overcome the prevailing idiom."

"Yes," she went on, "the German as taught when
I was a girl was a most beautiful language, but in try-

192 Cherished Memories.

ing to substitute the English, little has been gained
among our plain people but a dialect so pronounced
as to make it almost impossible to preserve the Ger-
man as it was spoken by our grandparents.''

For a time, as I sat in the presence of this more than
ordinarily educated Mennonite woman, I couldn't
help noticing the difference between her own expres-
sion and that of ''my man/' as she called him. How
long the interview lasted with only a word of approval
on my part, I have no means of knowing. Later, at
the evening meal, as we sat together, the topic turned
to fanning, when I may have said that if I were the
owner of a two-hundred-acre farm with three or more
half-grown boys, I'd set apart a half acre to each as
a beginning. I'd say, " Now, my lads, start to farming
these on yo.ur own account; raise what you please,
whether strawberries, cucumbers, radishes, or any
one or all of the many other farm trucks that always
command ready sale. And when the crops are har-
vested, I'd tell them, after deducting enough to pay
the interest, that the profits belonged to them." I
might have gone further in pointing out the competi-
tion between them and other farmers' sons, in catching
the spirit in making them show more interest in the
farm as a whole. If I neglected, I should have ad-
vised Menno to subscribe for a journal or two on hor-
ticulture and agriculture, in making the boys contented
on the farm as a part of God's country.

How'ever, be this but the result of later deliber-
ation, I have often since interviewed farmers' sons
as to why they preferred the life of a city to that

A Generous Father. 193

of the country. The reply has ahnost invariably
been that they were in noway encouraged; yes,
discouraged in being compeUed to work year in and
year out for only their bed and board, and maybe,
to be told on reaching full manhood to wait the time
for the "old man" to pass away.

The above compendium on the shortsightedness of
many of our most intellectual farmers the country
over can be illustrated in no better way than by what
occurred in one of the Lancaster banks not so many
years ago. After selling his tobacco for a good, round
sum, the farmer and his three half-grown sons stepped
up to the cashier, and after getting the check cashed,
he said, "Now, give me three doUar bills." Tiuning
to the boys and handing to each one of the bright,
new bills, said, "This is your, your and your share for
helpin' cultivate the tobacco. Now, take it home
mit you, and put it in der bureau-drawer for safe
keepin'."

Good advice! And yet, perhaps, these three young
men are still struggling along on the farm, and per-
chance not. If still there, they are not getting out of
life what the old homestead owes them. And now to
enter on my first day's mission as teacher of the
Hickory Grove school.

Of the five girls and six boys attending this school
during the fall and winter term of '59, we know of
only two yet living, the one known as "Harve," a re-
tired blacksmith, residing above Florin, the other,
"Amos," a respected citizen of Paradise township.
It is well then to know there are at least two wit-
13

194 Cherished Memories.

nesses to bear testimony to what is herein set forth.
In noway disposed to betray their ages, yet at the time
they attended the "Grove" school, the former ex-
ceeded the age of the teacher by some months. As
both have reached an age in which they are in no way
open to an "engagement" to any of the five girls, the
hope is, that none of their inquisitive neighbors will
start to computing their ages, imless, perchance, their
former instructor's be taken as a basis.

With a certain pardonable pride, it is after these
many years that the author's storehouse of memory
is thrown wide open to the recollection of the many
discouragements starting with the first opening-day,
ending with the closing of the school-room door during
the early spring. As my roll-book shows, for a
period of three months, the number present at any
time did not exceed seven, making the number all told
eleven. It was nothing unusual on stormy days, for
the teacher to sit alone, holding the "fort" with a pre-
emptory order from the secretary to " close up and get
out," for the reason "that it didn't pay for the town-
ship to keep a school open eight months with an
empty school room."

There came a time, however, during the middle of
January, when the issue was to be forced to a conclu-
sion, the school closed and "der maister outdismissed,"
as one of the directors put it in Dutch. Well, to give
credit to whom credit is due, it was the late David
Evans who had followed the much-lamented John S.
Crumbaugh as superintendent, and who, on a cold,
stormy day, entered the school, followed by the

The Kickers. 195

board, a very few friends, and a score of dissenters,
filling the room to its utmost capacity. It was a
trying hour, and but for the inner consciousness that
I was trying to perform my duty, I should have given
up in despair. With a kindly shake of the hand by
the superintendent, the exercises began, at times
with but a single pupil in any one branch.

At the close, the superintendent stepped to the
platform, as I stood in the midst of what at the present
day might be called "kickers" or "knockers," feeling
that my doom as a teacher was to end in dismissal*
But his recital, as he reviewed conditions, lajdng the
blame equally on the heads of both parents and direct-
ors, gave me renewed courage. "Directors and par-
ents," he went on, '' this school I find in first-class con-
dition with the teacher doing all that could be ex-
pected of one who has received but slight encourage-
ment."

What followed, as those who came to see the school
closed, needs not be herein related, except to say that
it was Menno Mengen, the Dutch patron, who ended
in a speech of such encouragement as to bring
good cheer to a young teacher's drooping spirits.
But, notwithstanding I received a number one mark,
the feeling of resentment continued down to the close
of the school with the number of pupils remaining
the same.

But this is not the end: three years later, I attended
an examination at the village of Intercourse, and while
there was called upon by this same secretary impor-
tuning me to take charge of what was known as "The

196 Cherished Memories.

Pond" school, located in the center of the village. To
refuse with thanks this generous offer was to me at
the time a source of inward satisfaction, not that I
didn't appreciate the change of heart, feeling as I
did at the time that the school board was disposed
to undo a wrong for which I at the time was in noway
responsible. On the other hand, I was holding a posi-
tion in another district, with little danger of being
*'outdismissed."

Among the teachers whose names have not been
forgotten was that of Millard D. Evans, now a prac-
ticing attorney in Pottstown, and one other, "Joel,"
the present alderman of the Sixth Ward of this city.
Apart from these and a few other teachers, it needn't
be assumed I was was without friends in the village
of Intercourse, ready to back up the teacher by words
of encouragement as against the action of the school
board.

But as Menno Mengen, with whom I boarded during
the long, trying winter, was an inimitable story-teller,
the succeeding chapter shall be devoted to country
life as I found it on the Mengen homestead.

CHAPTER XVII.

Menno's Story op His Courtship and Honeymoon
Trip to New York — Innovations in Farming
Methods and Machinery.

HARDLY more than a week had gone by when I
discovered there was a wide difference between
Nancy and "my man" Mengen, as she usually spoke
of him. Nor was I long in learning that both had had
their griefs and sorrows. These it remained for the
grand-children to turn into moments of sunshine —
the boys for Mengen to dangle on his knee at times,
with the bright-eyed Beckie as a grandmother's
darling.

It wasn't long until I reached the conclusion that
Nancy was the go-between, and that to reach the near-
side of Mengen, it was necessary to praise Nancy's
big, round loaves of home-made bread, as well as her
pies of every kind, make and bake. To follow her to
the cellar where the churning was going on, and where
the big, round rolls of butter were wrapped in the
daintiest of cheese-cloth, occupied many of my idle
moments. Indeed, so frequent had these visits be-
come, with Nancy's domestic affairs, that on one
occasion, as I reached the porch, Mengen exclaimed:

"Un' now, me yunga maister, so ye've been takin'
a lesson or two in housekeepin' frum cella edicated
Nancy, same as Mengen's been doin' many times his-
self. Mit me alta frau, un' Mengen it's give un' take,

197

198 Cherished Memories.

Nancy helpin' in harvest when a storm be brewin', iin'
der alta mon rockin' der cradle when der glana
Mengens be down mit a spell uf der swump fever,
one uf der 'plaints that used to be kumin' 'roun' spring
un' fall 'fore der doctors got to perscribin' alia kind
uf patent med'cines, sume curin', others killing un'
no mistake."

Changing his position in the old arm-chair, ''Denxt
we kin be edicatin' ye up to a farmer's standard durin'
oflf-days, pervidin' yer not hangin' 'roun der midawk-
essa table waitin' fur der evenin' meal to begin, same
as wus der case mit grosa Gottlieb, der former maister
uf der destric' schule."

'*Un' now," rising to his feet, "guess we kin be
'rangin' fur der price uf board, providin', too, ye
aren't givin' to writin' po'try, un' playin' der 'cordeon,
momin', noon im' evenin', as was der case mit Gott.
Secon' place, as Mengen kum to tink it iver, too much
edication may be jist der right ting fur bankers in
figgerin' out interest 'bove der legal rate uf six cent
on der dallah, but fur plain farmers, it breeds discon-
tent, fillin' der yunga cals' heads full uf highfalutin'
ideas, makin' 'em dissatisfied mit a farmer's life."

"Well, Menno, let me here say, I've never been given
to anything but hard knocks as an all-'roimd town
ball-player, such, maybe, as you yourself took a hand
in before the rheumatism got to playing pranks with
your joints — "

"Der dihinker, me grosa maister I don't be remindin'
der head uf der farm uf cella days when comer-ball
wus alia der go on der farm. Un' now," rising and

I MENNONITE MAID

. . • •• •

Menno's Courtship Troubles. 199

stretching out his arms at full length, "if it wasn't
fur Menno's rheumatiz, he'd be showin' ye how to be
jukin' 'roun' in der ring."

Strolling our way in the direction of the double-
decker, out of Nancy's hearing, the now jolly farmer
resumed: '*Startin' Mengen to talkin', keeps remindin'
him uf der time when he took Nancy to Neia York
on our weddin'-trip to see der sights more im' a half-
cent'ry back, when der yunga wimmens wus more
pertic'lar in choosin' a helpmate im' da be at present
time, im' no mistake."

"Yes, Menno, let's have the story of how you hap-
pened to persuade a yoimg Mennonite maid of your
own Nancy's worth into marrying a 'Dutch' farmer's
son. Of course, I'm not looking at present for a wife,
but should the time come, my only hope is there'll
be another Nancy."

"Un' so ye're kind uf smitten mit my woman?
Any 'jections to marryin' 'nurther plain Mennonite
maid, pervidin' her nam's Beckie when her time kum
fur gittin' spliced?"

"Yis, yis," he continued, absent-mindedly, dream-
ing his early life over again, "Menno managed to git
Nancy after he'd learned der way uf poppin' der
question, which in dem days, mitout eny prev'ous
'sperience, wus a mighty ticklish op'ration, im don't
ye furgit itl Fust, it took blessed near der whole
winter in studin' up der way uf poppin' der question;
secon', he hed to be consultin' der alta folk uf how
da went 'bout it theirselves; third, der gal's parents
hed to be courted on divers 'casions; fourthly, der be

200 Cherished Memories.

der bishop who wus allaway a bit shy in givin' his
consent 'fore guckin' up a yunga farmer's standin' iin'
char-act-or to be makin' sure that after jinin' meetin'
\m' wearin' a suit uf homespun mitout gallowses, he
prove hisself true to his married vow. Un' fiftly im'
lastly, der be der question uf finance, im' no mistake."

"And the old gentleman's farm thrown in by way
of getting Nancy off his hands?" I twittingly remark-
ed, leading Menno to the confessional-point, without
arousing his suspicions.

" Denxt, me 'quisitive maister, when ye start 'mong
der deitcha farmers huntin' a lovin' help-mate sich as
Nancy's been provin', it's a snug leetle farm-house
ye'U be needin', mit plenty uf fertile acres to be
stroUin' 'roim' on; un' so, be savin' yer wages, makin'
each dallah be drawin' a six-cent interest iver in der
bank? Un' now, if Mengen may be concludin', it's
one uf der unwritten laws 'mong der Mennonite farm-
ers that, in der givin' 'way uf der datters, der fellows
wantin' 'em musdt be showin' up der deed uf inden-
ture free uf mortgage or jedgmen', im' no mistake,"
with a knowing shake of the head.

"Sorry, Menno," with a deep sigh, "to be telling
you, the prospect of my ever marrying a plain Men-
nonite maid is a mighty slim one; for, don't you know
I'm only a poor, common school teacher."

"Tut, tutl alia der besser fur ye to be cumin' to
der schule poor, un' mebbe, leavin' it rich, im' to be
reachin' it rich, im' leavin' it poor."

"Can't imderstand your line of reasoning, Menno,"
came my pertinent reply, in taking a lesson in the
theory, if not in the practice of farming.

The Irish Contractor and Son Larry. 201

"W-a-U, to be 'lucidatin'. 'Cordin' to der records,
alia der deitcha farmers cumin' to des der 'up' coimtry
at der time der alta Mengen built der stone cabin,
wus as poor as Job s turkey in hatchin' season. But
by im' by, mit der savin' uf der cents, mit der dallahs
takin care uf theirselves, da made der leetle home-
steads self-sustainin , mit a few golden nuggets laid
side fur a rainy day, which used to kume long more
frequently im' da do since der hevy timber be re-
moved.

"But der be der udder side of der question to be
told ye uf der scientific farmer cumin' frum der stadt
rich, un leavin' der farms in der hands uf der sheriff
to be ousgaspieled to der highest bidder, after der
barn-doors hed been iver-kivered mit hand-bills
'gainst which der law won't permit ye to be white-
washin'."

Glancing upward, in noting the direction of the
wind, the versatile Mengen resumed, in his inimitable
way, "Iver in der shire town lived, not so many
year ago, Jimmy O'Neal, der Irish contractor. Said
he to his son Larry, one momin', says he, 'Me son,
since yer parent's been reapin' a fortune at railroad
buildin', 'curs to him to be sendin' ye to der farm-
schule, so that, on yer home-kimiin', ye kin' be showin'
der deitcha farmers how to be raisin' two bushel uf
wheat where only one hed been raised 'fore.' 'Cord-
in'ly, as Jestice Dugan's been tellin' me, Larry grad'-
ated mit a cer-tif-'cate uf recommen' frum der head
perfessor uf der college. Tell ye, der alta contractor
wus mighty proud after readin' iver cella diploma,

202 Cherished Memories,

embracin' a list uf alia der known product raised in
der shtate fiin Pennsylvany since der William Penn
fust landed on her shores uf der DePware.

"Takin' Larry 'side, he said: 'Me edicated yxing-
ster, it's yer parent's purchasin' fur ye a two-hundred-
acre farm to be growin' rich on. But me knowin' one,
fore startin' to farmin' on scientific principles, ye
musdt be jum'n' der Fanners' Society uf der county.
Tell ye, me maister, if Menno may be concludin',
durin' fust year, dere be more prosper'ty on cella farm,
\m' wus iver seen since farmin' fust begun. Crops!
niver in me bom days see so many 'rieties sent iver
from der city uf Washington. Bless ye, took der
whole uf der bam floor to be holdin' der seeds fur der
spring plantin'."

"Nothing more is necessary, Mengen, I'm catching
on; a sort of 'Experimental' station for the instruc-
tion of the Dutch farmers of this the 'up' coimtry
in the modus-operandi of conducting a farm on scien-
tific principles. And how did the experiment turn
out; suppose Larry grew independently rich the first
year?"

"Grew rich, denxt dere? Mit der celler full uf wine
un' der parlor full uf vis'tors frum der farm schule,
who hed cume to 'sist Larry, tings went swimmin'ly
on fur a year or two. But by un' by, mit der crops
takin' care uf theirselves, dere kume a change, one
of der kind that allaway be overtakin' farmers who
git to 'sper'mentin' mit alia kind uf products sint iver
fmm der Sthate farm schuyle. So, mit Larry kumin'
to der farm rich, he left it poor mit der alta contractor

When a Fanner's at Peace. 203

gettin' der hisself in pervidin' means to be keepin'
der younga graduate's head 'bove water till der sheriff
kume roun' tackin' a bill uf sale to der doors uf der
dubble-decker, un no mistake."

Looking up at the sim, "It'll be doin' ye no harm,"
finally concluded Mengen, "to be keepin' der destric'
schule pervidin' when ye've drawn yer salary, ye
aren't hurryin' off to der stadt investin' it in coal-oil
certif '-cates in tryin' to git sumethin' fur nothin'. Un'
now, Menno might be sayin' as a wamin', keep yer
farm-gate imder lock im' key, less, 'fore ye know it,
ye'U be loaded down mit a lot of certif'cates, fit only
fur der paperin' uf yer kitchen, un' which ye kin' be
seein' momin', noon un' evenin' bearin' no interest.

On several after occasions I resorted to every de-
vice to get Mengen to tell the story of how he had
taken Nancy to New York on his wedding trip to see
the sights, but without success. At last, one evening,
after having sold some of his wheat to pay off "old
debts," as he expressed it, I foimd him seemingly at
peace with all the world. And as the sa3ring went,
"when you find a farmer at peace with himself, it's
a pretty sm« sign he's at peace with his neighbors."

"It wus after der bishop hed tied der knot, gittin'
a gallon uf dandy's hard cider un' der promise uf a
porker at killin' time, that Nancy, tumin' to Mengen
\m' said: said she, smilin' Uke, 'As we'll be tied longa
un' we've been imtied, pervided ye're faithful to yer
married vows, mightn't it be showin' a goota 'zample
to der yimga matales to be doin' likewise when der
time kum fur gittin' spliced, by spendin' oiu: honey-

204 Cherished Memories.

moon iver in Neia York? Ye see, Menno,' pinnin' a
geranium on me wammus, 'if yer willin', Nancy is/

"Kind nf denxt, Nancy, that Mengen would be
kind uf enjoyin' der trip pervidin' ye've got der ready
dallahs to be payin' der bills at one of dem big tav-
erns on Broadway, costin' each a dallah a day un'
mebbe, sumthin' more by der week pervidin' we
spend der summer in der big stadt uf Neia York/"

Keeping an eye in the direction of the kitchen-door,
to make sure the coast was clear, the jolly farmer
continued, "Un' so, mit Nancy dressed in her Dolly
Vardin fineries mitout hoop-skirt, un' Menno in his
buckskin breeches, mit gallowses im' udder fixin's
makin' him guck spruce-like, we took der stage fur
der coimty-seat. Gittin' to der Inlan' town, we stop
iver night mit der jedge, it be cheaper un' stoppin' at
der 'Spotted Cat,' im' no mistake.

"Next merrier," lowering his voice, "we go sailin'
down der Con'stoga to Safe Harbor on der Susque-
hanna, un' den up der Ches'peake, un' through der
Del'ware Canal landin' by im' by in Phil'delphy, un'
where long years 'fore Menno's great-great-grand-
dad bought a redemptioner uf which Nancy may
be tellin' ye 'fore leavin' der farm. Tell ye, me
maister," warming up to the subject, "sailin' iver der
river where der Christopher Columbus made his fust
landin', was worth alia der cost uf Nancy in payin'
der captain fur pintin' out alia der sights 'long der
way."

Smoothing out a few strands of gray which hung
over his forehead, then dropping the ashes from his

Seeing Philadelphia. 205

two-for-a-cent cigar, he resumed, after catching the
thread of his story, "Un' now, hevin' reached der
stadt uf Brotherly Love, me im' Nancy went paradin'
'roun', arm in arm, fur it wusn't Menno Mengen to be
seein' his bride followin' in der rear, 'cordin' to der
deitcha custom. 'Gin, in a strange platz, der be
danger uf some smart fellow steppin' in twixt Nancy
un' Mengen.*

"Kumin' to der flyin'-carriages, same as we used to
iver in der stadt, Nancy got to sittin' on a giraflf, hookin'
in alia der rings mitout gittin' skeered, mit Mingo by
her side, mit arms 'roim' der lion's neck, same as he
used to be doin' mit Nancy, after poppin' der ques-
tion, as I've been tellin' ye."

"Well, well, Menno, aside from what I've already
heard, proceed."

"Denxt, next we went iver to der Halls uf Inde-
pendence to see der Liberty Bell. Walkin' by me
bride's side, I got to pintin' to her pictures on der
walls. Un', bless me, Nancy, says Mengen, if here
isn't der George Washington's wery image crossin'
der Del'ware. Un', bless me, Nancy, if here isn't a
likeness uf Benny Franklin, der maker uf der alta
almanac, un' which be hangin' in der Jeremiah's
kitchen. Drawin' nearer, im' guckin' through her
Sundawk eyes, Nancy got to searchin' roun' fur her
great-grandparents, daguerrotypes, as she called 'em,
\m' seein' none resemblin' her ancestors, that edicated
Nancy turned on her heel un' said: said she, 'Menno,
as der be none uf our great-great-gran'parents' like-
nesses spread out on der walls uf der Shtate House,

206 Cherished Memoriee.

it's to Neia York we'll be goin' to see der harbor un'
mebbe der ship our ancesters kum iver in. Un' mebbe,
she went on, leadin' der way to der Ferry, *we may
be leamin' snmethin' frum der alta seamen 'bout our
grand-parents im' der boat da kum iver in."

"Of course, Menno, you saw the harbor, if not the
identical ship that brought Nancy's as well as your
own ancestors to the new world so many years ago?"
came my query, with a view to adding to my own his-
torical knowledge.

"Ships, ships I niver in alia me bom days did Mengen
see so many uf dem sailing wessels tied up at der wharf.
It wus a sight wurth beholdin', sume new, others as
old as Methuselah, im' still others that hed been saiUn'
der high seas iver since der diskivery uf America by
the Christopher Columbus, who, der harbor-maister
got to tellin' Nancy, wus still livin' iver on Broadway,
where he hed been sent after his last trip to der niea
wurld."

"You mean sailing vessels,'' came the interruption,
with a view of correcting some of his faulty English.

"Yis, yis, sailin' wessels, as I've been tellin' ye, me
'quisitive maister. So, mitout sayin, tank ye to der
captain uf cer'monies, up der Broadway went Nancy
im' Mengen in search uf Christopher, who, me bride
got to whisperin' in me off-ear, might be tellin' us
alia 'bout how our gran'parents kume iver from
Switzerlan' in one of Christopher's deitcha wessels.

"Un' now, if Menno may be addin'," resumed the
jolly farmer, with eyes still in the direction of the
open doorway, "mit me bride's Dolly Varden trimmins

In Search of Columbiis. 207

flyin' to der breeze which kume sweepin' iver der har-
bor, it WHS a anxious momen' fur Nancy to be studyin'
out alia der pinted questions to be askin' der alta
Columbus 'bout her ancesters."

"You no doubt found the place of storage, and as
a matter of course, learned in due time all about your
own and Nancy's family tree?" again came the inter-
ruption.

"We did, im' no mistake 1 Steppin' up to der head-
doorkeeper uf der museum, which Nancy took fur a
modem boardin' house, she turned in her winnin' way
\m' asked, 'Am Christopher Columbus visitin' here-
'bouts?'

" ' Christopher Columbo, as we used to call him when
sailin' der high seas — why, bless ye, yisl Seems we've
got der alta sea Captain sumewhere on ex'bition ready
to be interviewed by der descendents uf dem what
kume iver in one or 'tother uf his three ships.'

"'Un', im', am Christopher still livin', im' well?'
asked Nancy, growin' anxious to be der fust to throw
her arms 'roim' his neck.

"'Veil, veil, me dear Madam, denxt he's enjo3rin' as
goota health as at enny time durin' der pas' four cent'-
ries; can't recall der name uf der doctor who 'tended
him durin' his last spell uf sea-sickness, nor der kind
uf med'cine da give him, but whatever it wus, it acted
like a charm, preservin' der alta sea-captin in goot
shape iver since. Un' now, if not too 'quisitive, please
give yer names, un' where ye hail frum, seein ye're
on yer weddin' trip.

"Took Nancy 'bout a mi-nute to be gittin' out one

208 Cherished Memories.

uf her weddin'-cards, writ by der alta Hiram, der
schulemaister, 'fore startin' frum der farm. Said me
bride to der high 'ficial in command, dat we now, two
in one, be frum der sthate uf Pennsylvany, cumin'
clear through frum Phii'delphy, der city uf Brotheriy
love. Yis, yis," easing up the rheumatic foot, ''took
dat lovin' Nancy more un' half a hour in describin' to
der head-boss alia der tings we hed eyed iver in der
Phildelphy Shtate House. At last, tumin' im' glancin'
at his watch one minute im' into der Mrs. Mengen's
sparklin' eyes der next, he gits to interrogatin' her mit
alia kind uf questions 'bout her early fam'ly 'fairs,
leavin' Mingo sort uf entertain' hisself squintin' through
der winder into der museum wunderin' howiver to be
gittin' der two sep'rated. At las', holdin' both Nancy's
hand tighter im' a possimi in a steel trap, he says,
'Un now, me friends frum Pennsylvany, if ye wants
to see Christopher 'fore der sun go down, it'll be
costin' ye each dri-dahUah a head to be interviewin'
der alta sea-farin' captain, seein' yer both frum der
Keystone shtate der home uf William Penn, a distan'
relation uf Christopher's.'

"'Un' do ye tinks he still recomembers anytings
'bout Nancy Bruderly's fust gran'parents un' der
ship they kume iver in?' asked dat lovin' wife uf
mine, 'handin' iver der cash, 'spose fur doin' all der
talk In.'

"'Oh, bless ye, yis; if he kin recomember any-
tings at this late day, I'm sure he hasn't furgotten yer
gran'parents, though his mem'ry isn't as goot as it
used to be when sailin' der high seas 'long der coast

Old Oaken Bucket. 209

uf America in plantin' der blasted Spaniards on der
islan' uf Cuba/ sUppin' der half-dollar, quaters, levies
un' fippinpbits into his vest pocket, in a way becomin'
der head-master uf cer^monier he wus.

"Fust, as Mingo recalls, he got to showin' me un'
Nancy a whole room full uf der mos' wonderful tings
ye iver laid yer eyes on. So, py im' py, as he got to
leadin' me gal by der arm, he turns to a petrified
mummy, sa3rin', 'Take yer time, me plain country folk;
no use in hurryin', seein' ye've got each three minutes
mere to be interviewin' Christopher Columbo 'bout
yer early ancestors, 'fore der sun go down, mitout
extra charge.'"

The sudden appearance of Nancy on the scene
admonished Mingo Mengen to defer the sequel to a
more convenient season, with the caution to his apt
pupil that no mention of the episode be made in the
old ladjr's presence.

Apart from the double-decker, Nancy's at all times
well-supplied table and the porch, where I'd sit listen-
ing to Mengen's stories, if there was one other place
I was delighted to linger, it was aroimd the "Old
Oaken Bucket" which hung in the well. Of course,
the Conestoga wagon, standing alone in the wagon-
shed, and which long years before had plied its way
from the city of Philadelphia to the far-off town of
Pittsburg, seldom escaped our attention.

During odd moments, I was to learn that along this
great stretch of highway, during the time grand-
father Mengen occupied the sandstone cabin, the
boy, Menno, was no stranger; he had traveled it to
14

210 Cherished Memariee.

the tingling of the bells and to the music of the horn
of the trusty driver, as he drawled out words meaning-
less to all except himself and his trusty roadsters.
As a growing lad, Menno had seen many ups and downs
in splurging 'round in the sowing of his wild oats.
To these numerous escapades he seldom referred after
joining meeting, for it was one of the church man-
dates to forget, and if not to forget, to forego at least
all mention of these youthful exploits, a violation of
which resulted at times in severe church discipline or
expulsion, the one being as unfortimate as the other
in demanding obedience to such rules and regulations
as scriptural observance required. As a result, it was
only at odd moments, when in the presence of a
stranger, that Mengen would throw oflf all reserve.
At such times he would sit by the hour ready to crack
a joke, except with the bishop or some of his Dutch,
pious neighbors, whose words were aye and nay.

Occasionally his mind would revert back to the
time the grain was reaped with the sickle, and later
by the cradler in a twenty-acre field of golden grain,
with the binders following in their wake gathering
the sheaves ready to be threshed out by the flail or
by the tramp, tramp of the horses' feet on the bam
floor.

The old-time cradle! How few of the present gen-
eration of farmers' sons recall those happier days
when a dozen or more harvesters swimg the cradle in
imison with some familiar tune, as they awaited the
hour to partake of their midday lunch, with a drop
or two from the "demijohn," resting in the shade of

New Fanning Machinery. 211

a nearby tree. Picture if you can the feeling which
overcame the cradlers along in the fifties, when the
reaper and mower came to take the place of the
scythe and cradle. Many indeed were the laments
to which the writer was an eye-witness, in depicting
all kind of dire consequences, with starvation staring
the laborer in the face.

But the reaper and mower were not the only
modem-day devices the ingenuity of man has since
thrust upon the farming world, to be accepted by
some, to be rejected by others — at least for a time.
From threshing with the flail, later came the improved
thresher and cleaner, sending the grain into the bags
to be carted to mill or station-warehouse, now in a
Studebaker, a year or two hence, maybe, in an
automobile.

Still later, dating from the time the cradle was in
use, came the "stump-puller," the patent hay-rake,
casting the "tumbler" on the scrap-pile. Last,
though not least, we have the potato-digger, the
tobacco-planter, the hay-tedder and numerous other
farming implements never dreamed of by Mengen's
father, Jeremiah.

Whether, on an early September morning, as he
stood leaning over the porch awaiting the arrival of
those who were to assist him in threshing out the
remaining forty acres of golden grain, he was thinking
of the many changes time had wrought in the farming-
world since he was a boy, is not so clear; what he was
thinking of was the improved-thresher, among the first
of its kind awaiting the farm help. He may have had

212 Cherished Memories.

his suspicioiis that the same opposition prevailed
against this innovation as had manifested itself against
the reaper of a few years before. At last, turning to
his ^'goot" Nancy, with bent head, he exclaimed,
^'It's der alta Mengen's restin' under a he'vy wei^t
uf trublesy un' how he's to wuii^ hisself out of 'em,
der goota Lord 'bove only knows."

But Nancy Hengen wasn't the woman to stand
idly by without making inquiry into her husband's
troubles, which she well knew at times were more
imaginary than reaL Long years as a devoted house-
wife had taught her to read, as if by intuition, his inward
thoughts and emotions. At last, after a prolonged
pause, broken only by the warbling of a robin red-
breast singing its song of welcome to its mate on the
topmost branch of the old gum tree, Nancy b^an, in
her low, modulated tone: "Yes, Menno, the Lord will
provide all the help you need and that before the day
closes; so, brace up, and forget not that every cloud
has its silvery lining."

"Menno, Menno," came with increased emphasis,
as a tear fell upon a few strands of gray resting on
his forehead, "glance back to the time, so many years
ago, when your great-great-grandfather built his
stone cabin in this then wilderness, and of how he had
to remove sufficient of the heavy timber to keep the
wolf of poverty at bay during the long, trying winters,
with snow covering hill and dale. If then, our good
Father kept an eye on the farm. He will not desert
those who continue in the straight, narrow path,
trusting at all times in His goodness and mercy. And

Rdying an Woman's Intuition. 213

forget not that you're getting well along in years with
troubles hanging heavier on your shoulders than they
used to before our two sons passed away, with the
grandchildren in our care. But the boys are growing,
and within a few years more will be able to take your
place, so cheer up, and do not give way to despair.".

At this auspicious moment, Mengen's eyes caught
sight of his hired help coming down the long lane.
Giving his "goot" Nancy a loving embrace, he rushed
to meet them, saying: "A leetle late ye are, men, so
be steppin' into der ketchen fur a cup uf coffee, im a
few slices uf Nancy's snitz pies. Yis, yis, der Lord
has been answerin' Nancy's prayers," was his ending,
as they all repaired to the double-decker, to start to
threshing out the forty-acres of golden grain.

Whether it was the arrival of the hired help, or the
timely words of the motherly Nancy that had driven
dull care from her husband's mind is for other farm-
ers to determine, disposed, as many of them are, to
thrust aside a woman's intuition for their own faulty
judgment. And this leads to the thought, no doubt
uppermost in the minds of the farmer-reader, "How
much better might I not be off had I relied on my
wife's intuition instead of on my own superior judg-
ment, in sending out the value of the farm's products,
and at times the farm itself, into some Western gold
mine." Do you see the point, ye wise men of the
farm?

It was after overhearing what had occurred between
Mengen and Nancy that I found the now happy farmer
strolling in the direction of the well for a draught of

214 Cherished Memories.

its pure, sparkling water. Standing by his side a
moment later, he turned and asked, ''Iver heard uf
der song called der alta 'Oaken Bucket?' Iver hear
uf der mon who writ dem lines? It's a song worth
yer singin' un' a story worth Farmer Mengen's tellin'
ye if you care to listen. Yis; it was der alta Jere-
miah who first got to singin' der song while sittin'
on der porch iver yonder. Un' as he sung line after
line, ' How dear to der heart be der scenes uf me child-
hood,' how we children gathered 'roim' des alta oaken
bucket, mit tears in our eyes, pledgin' our wurd alia
to der Jere that as longa as childhood lingered, so
longa would der bucket im' windless be held sacred to
der daudy's mem'ry.

"'Gin, me maister," resumed Mengen, leaning over
the windless, after disposing of a few glasses of the
pure liquid that came from the well's depths, "as der
story go, a party uf tipplers hed dropped into a bar-
room one sultry day, un' after partakin' uf der brandy-
toddy, one turned im' said, der inn-keeper's toddy
wus der best he had iver tasted. Jist then, 'nurther
said, 'I know of a drink that beats der best brandy-
toddy iver mixed to quench a drinker's thirst."

"'Un' pray, vas might that be?' asked one uf der
drinkers.

"'It's der sparklin' wasser I used to drink fnmi der
alta oaken bucket mit der promise to me goot murther
dat what kum frum der depths below I would never
exchange fur any other.'

"Un' now, as Mengen recall der endin' uf der story,
one of der drinkers, Samuel Woodworth, as Jeremiah

Pledge to Father. 215

called him, dropped his glass, iin' runnin' frum der
tavern, went straight iver to his printin' office, where
he print dem lines, 'Der Alta Oaken Bucket.'"

And as I stood beside the tender-hearted farmer
and drank of the health-giving waters, it was there he
told me how he had pledged himself to his father,
Jeremiah, that, as long as Go dgave him strength to
withstand temptation, so long only would he drink of
the limpid waters that came from the earth beneath.

Improbable as this story may seem to the skeptical,
it is only one of many another to follow. If, then,
it contains a moral, so much the better for the story.

CHAPTER XVm.

A Country Sale — ^Tendency to Extravagant

Purchases.

IT was on a Saturday morning following, with a
drizzling rain setting in, that Mengen, dressed
in his best corduroy trousers, said to his "goot"
Nancy, "Seein' der time fur der maister to be leavin'
de farm's drawin' near, to be takin' him to der farmer
Zimros' sale of household im' farmin' impl'ments, may
be helpin' 'long his edication uf der practical kind.
Un' Nancy," he continued, drawing on his kips,
"it'll be fordin" der maister on der way to be sayin'
goot-bye to sum uf der 'kickers^ uf der schule."

"Oh, Menno, Menno, you set me beside myself!
From what the boys have been telling their grand-
mother, you've already been filling his head with
stories unbecoming a man of your age, and now to be
taking him to a country sale! Be careful then, Mengen,
not to let the wily sales-cryer load on the teacher a lot
of second-hand rubbish for which he may have no
use in the school-room. Yes, Menno, as you know, a
country sale is, of all places, the worst, leading to
habits of extravagance."

Chuckling inwardly at his "goot" Nancy's credulity,
and overlooking a woman's intuition which usually
surpasses man's faulty judgment. Farmer Mengen
repaired to the farm-yard, where "Old Trusty" was

216

Neighborhood Sympathy. 217

already hooked to the spring-board ready for an early
start.

And now, before leaving the farm on our twelve-
mile up-country journey, it may be said that in a
general way conditions of farm-life have imdergone
little, if any, change during the past half century.
Whatever new departures have come with better
educational advantages and improved appliances,
making the labor of the farm easier than in ye olden
time, many of the customs, habits and traditions
remain pretty much the same.

Being a law tmto themselves, they are disposed to
let the outer-world wag itself along to its heart's con-
tent, being seldom disturbed except by some unfor-
seen calamity. In this respect, Menno was no excep-
tion, ready at all times to loiter by the wayside, talk-
ing over such common-place affairs as the city mer-
chant might consider of little value during business
hours. And why shouldn't one be interested in a
neighbor's successes or failures? Having no "club-
rooms" wherein to meet at the close of the day in dis-
cussing a friend's private affairs, who would deny them
this God given privilege of sympathizing with a farmer
whose tobacco patch had been riddled by a shower of
hail, or whose last dollar had gone into a bucket shop?

Apart from these few suggestive thoughts, as the
result of a short eight-months on the Mengen home-
stead, it was after swinging back the farm-gate on its
rusty hinges that I took a seat by the now Jolly
farmer's side on our way to the Zimros sale of what
Menno took occasion to call ''blooded stock.'!

218 Cherished Memories.

On, on we drove our way with th well-informed
Mengen pointing to this or that well-cultivated
homestead, and of how after long years of patient
toil, it had been made to yield an abtmdance of crops.
Drawing up before a store and inn combined, it was
necessary for Mengen to alight, first, to give "Trusty"
a breathing spell, second, to lay in a supply of "bretz-
els" and cheese, in addition to a niunber of ''half
Spanish," to be stored in his broad-brim black beaver,
for his own use. Mengen might have had other reas-
ons; it being a rule, seldom to pass a country tavern
without paying one's respects to the Dutch landlord;
to neglect this, was to violate one of the unwritten
laws custom had sanctioned.

Before dismoimting came the familiar ''Goota mor-
rier. Farmer Mengen. Kum a-mole in un' nem a gla
venic appel-jack mit der alta landlord." This free,
open hospitality, coming from the stubby inn-keeper,
soon convinced me that I had fallen in with a coterie
of farmers also on their way to the sale. If hitherto
Mengen had eschewed the higher German for the
prevailing idiom, which we make but slight attempt
to reproduce, differing as it does in different localities,
he was now only too ready to rattle off the "mother-
tongue," in which I might have been bought and sold
a dozen times over without my knowing it.

Glancing through a window into the bar-room, I
couldn't help noticing the Dutch landlord dealing
out the "tangle-foot" to all who had come to indulge
themselves, only to agree to disagree on any one of a
dozen different topics, no single one of which, to my

\
(

Good Advice. 219

way of thinking, was applicable to the farm, except-
ing the weather. However, all were happy, jovial
and for a time good-natured, tmtil the fermentation
began to bear fruit, when, with the jingling of the
glasses, the room seemed to have turned itself into a
howling mass of unrestrained humanity. This was
still another phase of coimtry-life, no longer a dream,
but a living reality. To my surprise, Menno seemed
proof against the landlord's importunities to partake
of a "gla venic eppel-jack," as he expressed it.

At last, as the motley crowd disappeared in the
distance, we followed slowly in the rear. Breaking
the silence, Menno said, as if by way of apology, "Ye
musn't be jedgin' our Deitscha farmers by der few
who be nemin' a leetle too much uf der landlord's
beverage; sich ye'U allaway be findin' at der taverns
on der way to a coimtry sale. Most uf our peoples,
as ye'll diskiver, be law-bidin' un' temperate, even to
bein' devout Christians, 'cept bertime when sowin'
der wild oats."

"Un' now," continued Mengen, changing the sub-
ject, "dere be no kind uf a edication dat beats der
Deitscha auctioneer's, mit a way uf bamboozlin' der
farmers into buyin alia sort uf tings, fit only to be
stored way on der bam loft. So, as a goota wurd
uf' vice from Nancy, don't let der sales-cryer git his
eye on ye, or ye're a goner, mit mebbe, a cribber on
yer hands, mit Mengen goin' on yer sixty-day note.
Besser keep watchin' der udder bidders gittin' not
what da allaway be expectin, siunethin' fur nothin',
un' no mistake."

220 Cherished Memories.

Accepting this bit of wholesome advice, at a later
moment I stood in amazement, as I took in the long
line of teams hitched to both sides of the fences — ^traps
of every kind and shape, some with, others without,
springs or cushions to the seats; not a few of which,
for all I knew, might have come over from the Father-
land.

Reaching the mass of gathered humanity, I strolled
hither and thither, viewing some in shirt-sleeves, others
in short nmabouts and broadfalls, with black-brim
felt hats, pressed well down over their foreheads, pre-
senting a picture altogether different from what I
had seen at the Kauffman love-feast, some half dozen
years before.

It wasn't long until I foimd myself a stranger
among an even stranger people, who eyed me with a
sort of idle curiosity. And yet, as I was later to learn
from Mengen, they represented the lords of creation
— ^the sturdy yeomanry who felt themselves monarchs
of all they surveyed in the realm in which they moved.
Viewed from the standpoint of the city novice, they
were a strange and motley mixture; but when meas-
ured by the standard of their own surroimdings, they
were a frugal, industrious, law-abiding people, owing
their allegiance only to mother earth and what she
was willing to provide. If the crops were short one
year, with low prices, their hope was that better luck
might follow them the next succeeding. Subject to
no "trade unions," they could go where or when it
suited their convenience, without being dictated to
by a "walking delegate.'' Even the half-grown boys

i

K

A JoUy Auctioneer. 221

and girls dressed in all kind and shapes of homespun,
seemed contented, as they chattered away in their
mixed dialect.

However, as a twentieth-century after-thought, if,
in forming a "Farmers' Trust," may they not, in being
dictated to by a "walking delegate," thus curtail, in
a measure, that free, independent life known alone
to the world of farmers?

Turning from this suggestive hint, I was left to
paddle my own canoe, strolling from house to the
double-decker, only to wonder at the piles of rubbish
lying here and there awaiting the sales-cryer, whose
voice, coming from where I knew not, could be heard
even more distinctly than that of the vender's of
what was to satisfy the hunger of the great majority
who had come to gratify an idle curiosity in the en-
jo3rment of a day's outing, such as country sales usu-
ally afford.

It wasn't long until I had found myself on the
barn-floor, in the midst of a swarm of anxious bidders,
each zealous to out-bid his neighbor. However, I
hadn't been an eye-witness long until I discovered
that each article had a value oftentimes beyond what
it might have been purchased at any one of the city
or coimtry stores.

That the auctioneer tmderstood his business, soon
began to confirm what I had been told by Farmer
Mengen. Being upwards of three himdred pounds
in weight and of a jolly turn, pouring forth in his
go-as-you-please way a volume of Dutch and English,
he managed to keep the bidders worked up to the top-

222 Cherished Memories.

notch by weaving in one of his stories, salted down for
each occasion. Then, after the laughter had sub-
sided, he would lean forward, with article in hand,
calling for a generous bid. Catching but the slightest
motion of the head or an involuntary wink of the
eye, he would hold the bidder spell-bound in bidding
against one of the cryer's paid hirelings, with "Ain,
swa, tri, gone, gone to Adolph Conning at only half
der price."

Catching in his arms the souvenir, the fortunate or
unfortimate purchaser would start to inspecting his
bargain, then turn it over to his competitors, who in
turn would view it with as much curiosity as if it
were some memento handed down from Noah's ark.

Comparatively easy it was for the on-looker to force
his way into this mixture of men, women and children,
bumping and pressing against each other as if in search
of a gold mine, but to work his way out, with broad-
brim hats and sugar-scoop bonnets jamming themselves
into one's eyes, was no easy matter.

From the "bargain-counter" of the double-decker
I went my way to the house, taking in the many
womanly faces as they pried into bureau-drawers
filled with linen, trinkets and other articles of a
domestic kind, all awaiting the auctioneer's disposal.
Bedding and ticking came under the scrutiny of
matronly home-bodies, while those younger in years
cast wistful glances at an old-fashioned cradle, whose
oddity of shape and age, if not reminding me of the
one I was compelled to rock down in Old Leesburg,
served to bring conviction to the humorously-inclined

Blooded Stock. 223

that it might have come from one of the Swiss pro-
vinces at the time the first settlement was made in
this the "up" cotmtry.

In the kitchen below were crowds, indulging them-
selves in low whispers on the merits of what were so
soon to bedeck their own homes. The antiquated
sideboard, filled with plates, cups and saucers, knives
and forks with bone handles of all sizes and shapes,
was ransacked by old and yoimg, each with an eye
single to its purchase.

In this wonderland I lingered, almost persuading
myself to catch the eye of the Jolly sales-cryer in the
purchase of the old grandfather's clock, standing in a
comer ready to be oflfered at a sacrifice to the highest
bidder. Stepping to the door, my attention was
attracted by: "Des iz der platz fun der lemonade,
only two benny der glass, mit a bretzel mitout extra
cost. Yaw, yaw," continued the voice, "kum a-mole
iver fur der oyster-stew, jus' six cent fur one bowl."
And he might have added, after I had sampled the
mixture, that a single bivalve had been thrown in
to give the "soop" the oyster flavor.

Beyond, where the hungry loved to congregate,
with the bidding under full sway, I caught sight of
the tall Menno Mengen intensely interested in what
the cryer called "blooded stock." In no way wishing
to become h)rpnotized by the auctioneer catching but
a wink of my own eye, I had little cause for anxiety,
knowing that Menno Mengen wasn't so easily to be
bamboozled by the wily tricks of the sales-cryer.

On due reflection, I could reach but one conclusion

224 Cherished Memories.

for the close competition, no spot-cash down, only
the giving of a thirty, sixty or a ninety-day note, ¥dth
this or that fanner becoming endorser for his neigh-
bor, and vice versa.

However, at the close of the sale and before start-
ing homeward, in a casual way, I took an inventory
of Menno's purchases, consisting of a set of half-worn
harness, several old blankets, two copper kettles,
punctured with holes sufficient to extinguish any fire
during "eppel-butter-bilin"' season. Added to these
and other odds and ends, was a crow-bate of a cow,
denuded of her once glossy color, described by the
sales-cryer as of "Aldemey stock," imported from the
Channel Islands. In addition were two half-grown
shoats, of the razor-back order, said to have come
from Georgia, and which, when loaded into the spring-
board with the other cast-oflfs, left little room for either
Mengen or myself.

Fortunately for ourselves, the old reprobate with
her baby-calf was compelled to jog her way along the
rear, while on the crate, containing the long-nose
shoats, I seated myself, with back facing the driver,
in leading the nondescript whose musictd notes were
anything but a solace to my peace of mind. Perched
on the front seat sat Mengen, who every now and then
exclaimed, ''Keep a tight hold uf der kritter, un' be
keerful, me younga maister, uf der glana shoats
reachin' out in bitin' oflf der ends uf yer coat-tail."

CHAPTER XIX.

Sexton Hammerpue — ^The Story op Jimmy McGuire.
Patershine Trades Horses.

fTlO pass from the sale without acquainting the
JL reader with what occurred on our homeward
journey, might be to throw some doubt on the story
as abeady related. For a time we went our way, Men-
gen holding the reins, and I, guiding Brindle by keep-
ing her at a safe distance from jmnping aboard the
spring-board when not trjring to go the other way, in
which I found my predicament a most imcomfortable
one from the viewpoint of the teacher.

At last, breathing heavily, Menno exclaimed in a
doleful tone, "Seein' der Mengen's nmnin' short uf
a fresh supply uf stories to be entertainin' Nancy
when she gits to askin' alia' bout der tings her besser-
half 's been bu3rin' at der sale, it might be well to be
stoppin' mit der alta grave-digger fur a fresh supply^
to be entertainin' der Jestice Dugan when he kiune
'rotmd to be payin' a ten 'vance iver der price bersalt
fur der Aldemey un' mebbe sumthin' more fur der
razorbacks."

Before I could realize the predicament into which I
was so soon to find myself, Mengen, glancing back over
his left shoulder, soliloquized, ''As der sim's gittin'
close down 'long der horizon, im' as der Sexton's eyes
be not as goot as day once was, he may be takin' der

15 225

226 Cherished Memories.

crate containin' der shoats fur der rough-box of der
alta Sol Shindle's last earthly remains, un' which,
if Mengen was correc'ly informed iver at der sale, wus
delayed in transit in crossin' what in der alta time wus
der 'Round Up.' So, jis' keep mum, un' we'll be
hevin' a leetle fun at der alta Hammerpue's 'spense,
un' no mistake."

Driving up, Mengen dismounted, and after hitching
"Trusty" to a post, said in response to my inquiry, that
the house to the right was the sexton's home, and the
one on the left, directly opposite, the "Dead-House"
in which all late arrivals were compelled to rest over
night to be given public interment the morning follow-
ing.

Glancing at the small stone structure with its
two windows, oaken door and roof of tiles, came a
voice, and before it had lost itself among the grave-
stones, appeared in the waning twilight, two round,
hazel eyes from the open doorway, and which for all I
knew to the contrary might have been those of the
late Sol Shindle's, if Mengen's words could be relied on.

As I attempted to seek shelter behind the Aldemey
again came the same screeching voice, "This way,
back up, Mr. Undertaker, and we'll unload; too late
to plant the old poet's remains before the coming of
the 'morrow. And bless the sexton, where's the
procession? Oh, I see, shipped the corpse in a spring-
board to save hearse-hire, with the mourners coming
along early in the morning, eh?" rubbing his eyes to
make his vision all the more clear, being, as Mengen
had said, a little nearsighted.

Mistaken Identity. 227

"And now, Mr. Undertaker," came in a milder tone,
stepping forward with an acquired feeling of S3rmpathy,
"Was the old poet sick long? Were his last moments
I)eaceful? Leave any bequests, in setting apart a
small legacy to Sexton Hammerpue in keeping his
remains from being carried off by the young medical
students of the city in search of a 'stiff?' Reconciled
to the inevitable, as most poets are, when they realize
their last hopes have departed? Any tears shed by the
near and distant relatives in expecting something for
nothing, always only too ready to open the deceased's
will? Compose any verses for his headstone? Have
them patented to prevent other scribblers from claim-
ing priority of title? Say how he wanted to be planted,
with head north, south, east or west?"

"Kind of denxt, me alta grave-digger, ye musdt be
hevin' a spell uf der nightmares; eyesight not so goot
as it once be?" shouted Mengen, with a half bewildered
look, feeling the joke was like a shoe on the wrong foot.

"Be they 'goof or bad, drive the old nag up and
we'll unload; have been waiting since noon for the
cortege, and here comes the poet's body in a rough-box,
and in such a crate! Guess, mebbe, after all," with a
solemn shake of the head, "the scribbler was too poor
to buy a decent casket or pay a respectable number of
mourners to be risking their lives through the tangle-
web of brush, without some guarantee of a safe re-
turn—"

"See here, Mr. Sexton Hammerpue, ye're a lettle
wrong-shifted, un' der sooner ye right yerself der
besser, bless ye. Ich bien der Menno Mengen, frum

228 Cherished Memories.

der Menno Zimros^ sale mit a pair of shoats penned up
in what ye've been takin' fur a rough-box. Sony to
be disturbin' ye at des late hour, 'cept to denkin' ye
might be 'commodatin' us mit a story to be entertainin'
Nancy when she gits to pryin' into Mengen's purchases
iver at der sale, un' no mistake."

"Why, why, yes, Mengen, if it's only a good story
you want, it won't be costing you more than your time
and patience; so, as it's growing a little chilly without,
ask your hiding -friend to step into the dead-house, and
it's the Sexton who'll be telling you both how the young
laddy boy Jimmy M'Guire met his fate all the resiJt of
a little amusement Justice Maloney and a few of the
rollicking laddy boys over in the village thought they'd
be having at the Sexton's expense."

And, as we stepped within this woebegone place of
refuge, the Sexton continued, after the closing of the
door, and lighting a tallow-dip, "Make yourselves at
your ease, my friends; those resting awaiting an early
burial in the morning won't be distiu-bing you; you
needn't have any fear of bringing back to life the vener-
able Doctor M'Ginty who died of the cholera, and yet
could cure others; remains came a little too late for
this day's planting. Knew the Doctor, Mengen?"
directing his remarks to him who sat on one end of the
casket, with myself on the other.

"And, and, do you mean to say the doctor died of
a malignant disease?" I exclaimed, looking for the
nearest avenue of escape.

"Un, un', gee whiz, Mr. Sexton, un' don't ye tink
ye kin be deferrin' der story to a more conven't season,

Test of Courage. 229

seein' it's Farmer Mengen musdt be gettin' Brindle iin'
der shoats to der farm fur Nancy to be takin' a peep
at fore' closin' her eyes in sleep?"

Placing his hand on the shoulder of the venerable
Mengen whose nerves began to show the wear and tear
of age, he was assured that there was absolutely no
danger of either of the "stiffs" regaining his perfect
equilibrium.

Having pacified us both that we should in due time
pursue our way homeward-bound, without the danger
of being followed by evil spirits or omens, we continued
to rest peacefully until the Sexton had finished the
story, one, if not the same, I have frequently heard
mentioned since by the older residents of the "up"
country.

It seems that the imdertaker, after storing the body
of Silas Brickenbine in the "dead-house" preferred to
stop over night in the village instead of sleeping peace-
fully in the deceased Brickenbine's rough-box without
extra cost.

Dropping a word here and there in the village, it
soon became noised aroimd the office of Squire Ma-
loney that the remains of Silas were in the dead-
house. Being of a jolly tium, the Justice started to
offering a small reward to any one willing to enter this
dismal place of refuge after night had set in; and after
remaining with the corpse an hour with every evidence
that he had fulfilled his mission to the squire's satis-
faction, return with the evidence. It so happened as
the night ran on that none of the village boys willing
to make the venture, that Jimmy M'Guire declared that

230 Cherished Memories,

having traveled old Ireland over without the fear of
ghosts and hobgobins, he was willing to earn an honest
dollar.

To make good his promise, he was given a hammer,
nail and a strip of red flannel which, upon entering
through a window, he was to tack to the side of the
deceased Brinkinbine's rough-box, so that it might be
seen by the committee the morning following the event.
Up to this time all went well as the courageous Jimmy
went his way whistling an old Irish reel.

To quote the sexton's language: "It was along in the
wee hours of the morning that startling results followed
Jimmy's first and last visit to this dead-house. Awak-
ened from my peaceful slumbers by a rap at the oaken
door, and thinking it only the wind playing hide and
seek, I raised the window of my bed-room, looking for
the kind of weather for the morning's planting when
lol who should the sexton's eyes behold but Justice
Maloney standing at the door of the dead-house
trembling as if attacked by all the imps supposed to
be strolling 'round among the grave-stones, but for
what purpose I knew not.

'* 'It's Justice Maloney, and none other, ' I murmured
looking still further out of the window. 'Ah, ha, by
all that's good and bad, if it isn't the defender of the
peace that's lurking 'round trying to rob the sexton of
his charge. Out of this at a double-quick, ' I shouted.
'Yes, away with you, Mr. Maloney, or it's the grave-
digger who'll be rushing down putting you into the
rough-box beside that of Silas Brinkinbine, and that,
before your early morning prayers. '

i

Death-Fright of Jimmy McOuire. 231

"'Ach, an' it's yerself, Mr. Sexton Hammerpue
who'll have to be hurryin' down, for don't ye know it's
th' body of poor Jimmy M'Guire that's standing up-
right in the dead-house an' without any more life in
him than a grave stone/ came Justice Maloney's
lament, as he stood prying through one of the windows
with the moon shining brightly down.

"'Come, come, Squire Maloney, and what's bringing
you here at such an imseemly hour when you ought to
be resting peacefully beside your own Bridget. Got
it into your head that it's Bridget instead of Silas that's
lying in the rough box, eh? Well, if you have any
doubts, give one or two more raps, and if you can't
hear his voice, put your ear to the keyhole, and if good
luck be with you, you may hear him twisting 'round
in the coffin in search of a little of the fresh morning
air.'

"'Ach, and it's Justice Maloney who's responsible
for—'

'^ Rushing down stairs, with shillalah in hand, I ups
and gives him a whack over his bald pate, saying, 'Take
this, Mr. Maloney, for your impertinence in disturbing
Sexton Hammerpue out of his peacefiJ slumbers.'
Then turning the key to the lock, I shoved the portly
justice in ahead as a protection when lol to my horror,
who should be standing upright but poor Jimmy
M'Guire and as dead as Silas Brickinbine himself.'

"'Oh, ho, Mr. Squire, it's a pretty fix you've gotten
yourself into with the evidence of your guilt staring
you in the face. Yes, Squire,' I continued, as with
another whack of shillalah, I sent him sprawling over

232 Cherished Memories.

Silas' rough-box, 'you might just as well be making
your will in favor of the Sexton, who'll be seeing
you'll be getting a decent planting in one comer of
the graveyard without the presence of His Reverence
to be sprinkling a few drops of holy water over your
remains imbeknown to court and jury, who may be con-
victing you of murdering and standing the poor Irish
laddy boy upright in the dead-house, to be covering
up your foul act.'

"And now," resumed the Sexton, lighting another
tallow-dip, and pointing to the spot where the remains
of Jimmy had been found standing, "it all occurred in
this way: In tacking the strip of red flannel to the side
of the rough-box, the bewildered Jimmy accidentally
drove the nail through the end of his long coat. Turn-
ing to depart, and feeling something pulling at him,
and thinking it to be old Brinkinbine rising out of the
trance into which he had fallen, caused the Irish lad
to stand stone-dead from fright, bringing on an attack
of heart-trouble.

"To substantiate the statement before a Coroner's
jury, there was Jimmy's coat-tail clinging to the side
of the coffin as plain as if tacked there by some
imseed hand. And now, to conclude," added the
Sexton, with a grim smile, as we stepped out into the
moonlight, "it is to be hoped, Menno, the story may
have a soothing effect on your own Nancy's nerves,
in accounting for the lateness of your return to the
farm."

For a time during our drive homeward-boimd all was
as quiet between us as if we were returning from the

y

I

i

A Horse Story. 233

funeral of the much lamented Jimmy MGuire. And
it was not until the farm-gate was reached that the
now much disconcerted farmer exclaimed in a low
whisper, "Der alta grave-digger's story isn't restin'
wery easy on der Menno's memory."

After all had been arranged with Brindle, her baby-
calf and the razor-backs stored away out of Nancy's
hearing, Mengen, after locking the stable-door, seated
himself on the edge of the water-trough and ex-
claimed, "Ich glabst 'tisn't safe in buyin' Aldemeys un'
razorbacks to be derpendin' on ther heavens 'bove or on
der earth 'neath, 'less yer usin' both yer Simday un'
week-day eyes. Un' even den, chances be ye'll be
drivin' to der farm livestock mit more real-down
cussedness im' Menno iver see since der Alta Patershine
drive f nmi der stadt a gowl not wurth der room it take
up in der stall."

''Well, Menno, to give you time to conjure up some
excuse to be giving your better-half for our delay, let's
have the story as a night-cap," came my half-sleepy
response, taking a seat by his side out of reach of
Nancy's bed-room window.

"Veil, 'side fnmi der alta Sexton's yam, which kind
uf make der Menno a gla venic nervous, der Patershine
drive iver to der town, un' mettin' der dealer say, *Mr.
Rubenstine, heve ye a goota gowl fiu* wurk?'

"'Der wery gowl to be suitin' ye, friend Patershine,
der fust to 'rive frum der shtate uf Kentucky, mit a
ped'gree uf der Blue Grass region, un' so quick on alla-
fours dat it'll do yer alta heart goot to see cella im-
proved stock uf gowl work, im' don't ye furget, Pater,
what the dealer's tellin' ye. '

234 Cherished Memories.

" Un' 80, der Patershine pay spot-cash down fur cella
goot gowl mit wha der vetemaries coiJdii't be curin',
he later drive hot-foot to der stadt, iin' gittin' dere
'fore der dealer hed 'ris out uf his dreams, he knock
at der door uf his five-story residence.'

*"Un/ un', who kum knockin' at dealer's door 'fore
he kin be sayin' his early momin' prayers?' mit his
bald head out of the window.

'"Du bist der Rubenstine, ich glawbst; im' ich bein
der Patershine, kum to tell ye cella Kentucky gowl
be a bawker; I hitch him to a load of stone dri dawk
iver at der lime-kiln, im' des morrier, he be standin' in
der same platz. Yas denxt dere iver cella goota
wurkin' gowl?'

'''Hum, hum; alia recht; goot nicht, goot nicht;
didn't I tells ye, farmer Patershine dat it would do yer
alia heart goot to see him vmrkt

"So, hot-foot der Pater drive iver to der Reuben-
stine's twin bruder, im', after tellin' him alia 'bout
der last dicker, he say, ' Heve ye a goota gowl fur wurk?'

"'Der wery gowl ye're needin' on der farm, stop
when ye wants him to go, im' go when ye wants him to
stop. ' So der Patershine bein' a leetle hard uf hearin'
in his ofiF-ear, he gucks cella goota gowl iver, coimtin'
the molers, mit a eye to der gowl's age, when he turn
im' say, 'How much spot cash down?'

"'One hundred un' thirty dallah, mit 'nuff off to be
payin' der toll iver der King's highway,' say der 'com-
'datin' Rubenstine mit a smile.

" 'No, no ' say der pater, 'I gives ye one-hundred un'
twenty-nine, no more no less.'

A Dealer^s Insurance^ 235

**'It's a go/ say der Rubenstine, reachin' fur der big
roun' silver dallahs mit both hands.

" ' On one condition, dat ye guarantee der goot wurk-
in' gowl to live ten year. '

"*Gut in himmel, Mr. Patershine, no honest dealer
kin be 'surin' a Kentucky gowl to live ten year. '

"'Veil, so, goota monier mine friend,' mit a wink
uf der left eye un' his thumb at his nose. '

**'Holt a gla venic, it's der honest dealer who gives
cella gowl a goota recommen.' Un' into his office he
go im' write out in large writin, 'I hereby guarantees
der goota gowl to be livin' ten year, un' in fine scribe,
if he don't die. '

"Un' so, der Patershine gooks der 'greement iver
mitout his spectacles, un' place it in his hat fur safe
keepin But sumethin' happened a week later when
der goota wiu-kin'-gowl died. Drivin' hot-foot iver to
der Jestice Dugan, he tells him all 'bout der dicker.
Pullin' down der diges', un' guckin it iver, der squire
say, mit a shake uf der head, 'Dere be no thin' in der
law to pervent a gowl fnmi givin' up der ghost 'fore
der ten year be up. Un' fur dis he charges der Pater-
shine ten dallah, im' no mistake. "

CHAPTER XX.

A Kicking Aldebney — Squire Dugan Victimized.

DURING the week following our return from the
sale I couldn't fail to observe that Mengen
wasn't altogether at his ease. And as for his ''goof
Nancy, I was almost ashamed to look her in the face,
seein' from her looks that something out of the usual
had happened. At last, I began to hint around for
the cause, asking the farmer in a casual way if anything
had gone wrong with his recent purchases.

"Gone wrong! Took der sales-cryer a half-hour
pintin' out alia der Aldemey's fine quaUties; said she
hed been imported when a heifer frum der Channel
Islands; a small eater im' a free milker, mit a disposi-
tion as gentle as Menno's alta frau's. But bless ye,
Menno Mengen's diskivered one uf her fine qualities;
she's a kicker; yis, a blasted kicker, im' don't ye furget
it to yer dyin' day, un' no mistake Un' now, it isn't
that Mengen objects to a leetle kickin' hisself betime
when tings don't go his way 'roun' der duble-decker,
same as he may be doin' iver at der bank when cella
six-months' note fur der Aldemey fall due. "

"Why, why, Menno, no cure for a kicking cow?"
I S3rmpathetically asked with hand resting on his
shoulder.

"Cure hust du nicht kared fur a cure fur der hog-

236

Justice Diigan. 237

cholera, or der blind staggers? Ever read in der
schnle beeker uf a way of gittin' rid of der hay-fever
that be kumin' 'roiin' ivery summer? Ever leama, me
stupid maister, uf a way of gittin' shut uf der lightin'-
rod agent or der highway tramp? Prayin' by der
Bishop im' der winunen may be bringin' rain, but
it'll niver break a kicker uf her tricks. "

"Un' now,'' continued the much excited Menno as
we stood at the stable-door, "if only der reprobate
hed started to kickin' her didos at der beginnin' uf
milkin' dere might heve been sume chance uf savin
der cream fur chumin'. But no; she allaway waited
till the kettle wus full when, mit a spiral-twist uf der
tail, away go der milk im' der milker alia in a heap.
'Side uf der loss uf der pails which Farmer Mengen kin
be standin', what denxt dere uf seein' Nancy sprawlin'
on her back alia kivered ever mit milk. It's 'nurther
diskivery Menno iver dergucked at der sale owin' to
der lateness uf der hour — she's blind uf one eye, 'un
'tother ain't much besser im' der blind one. "

"Un' now, me financier," added the farmer, taking
a glance along the lane, "it's Jestice Dugan may be
callin' 'fore sunset to be guckin' der infernal Aldemey
iver. Dunerwetter if here ain't der Squire Dugan a
minute ahead uf time. So, jis' keep mum while
Mengen give ye 'nother lesson in finance by gittin'
Brindle off his hands at a ten 'vance uf der price ber-
salt."

Before I could more than juke behind a stray post,
the Irish justice had entered, regaled in a black suit
with a high-top beaver, to match, and body out of all

238 Cherished Memories.

proportion to the length of his pedals, reminding me
of ''Ste£fy" when seen for the first time as a boy.

" Ach, an' it's the Aldemey ye have for sale, an' for
which you've no use the coming winter as yer note
states. Is the Justice correct, Menno, me honest
friend?"

''Kind uf denxt, Mr. Jestice, Menno Mengen's alla-
way ready to sell as well as buy; makes leetle diff'rence
which, pervided he gits a small 'vance iver der price
bersalt. Un' so, it's Brindle, imported frum der
Channel Islands, ye're wantin' to be takin' der platz uf
yer Susanna's Jersey that's died uf a lingering alta age?
So, me glana maister," appealing to me, "trot Brindle
out un' let der jestice guck der iver in der open twi-
light."

Obeying instructions, Menno continued, "Guck her
iver, Mr. Jestice; no use in yer hangin' back, fur she's
as fine a kritter as iver k — ." And here the seller
came near, making a bad break — "Yis, as fine a Al-
demey as ever kissed der alta Nancy's hand when
feedin' her uf her own del'cacles."

"Seems to be well groomed; got th' proper height;
o' a tawny color; not too fat, not too lean, with a
kindly disposition. A free milker, I suppose?", glanc-
ing into Mengen's face, approvingly.

"Free, Squire? besser denxt she's free; if ye heve
eny doubts uf her freedom uf motion, ask Nancy, who
allaway do her milkin' when der maid be down mit a
attack uf der swiunp fever, gittin' bertime as much
as a kittleful at a single milkin'. But" (avoiding .

another break). I

A Country Dicker. 239

"The price?" glancing her over for the fifth time.
"No use in wasting words, for with the Jestice Dugan,
time's money, seeing he got a hearing, mebbe, in
sending Timothy O'Neal to the work-house for six
months for getting his blind mare off on his next
neighbor for a soimd horse as a three-year-old. Then,
'side of Tim, there are several cross-suits growing out
of Menno Zimros' sale, and which'll be needing the
squire's attention for the balance of the week."

"Hum, hum, 'side frum der Irish laddy boy's gittin'
what's cimiin' to him in a stock dicker, Mengen isn't
differin' mit ye in gittin' nuff out uf Tim's hide to be
payin' a goota 'roim' simi fur der like uf Brindle when
she gits to k — ," added the seller, hesitatingly, as if
to avoid any hereafter entanglements. "Yis," in-
differently, "paid a goot, 'roim' forty fur der glana
beauty; kin' heve her, Squire, hitchin'-strap thrown
in to klinch der bargain, at ten 'vance uf der price
bersalt, which'll 'bout pay her keepin' fur der past
month. Kind uf denxt though, der partin' mit
Brindle'll be givin' Menno's alta frau a spell uf home-
sickness."

"The Squire's note, payable six months hence at
the bank over in the city?"

"No!" with a stamp of the foot, "spot cash, or no
sale; it's Mengen who may be givin' his own note fur
der like uf Brindle, but he's not 'ceptin' 'nurther
man's fur what she's likely to prove, pervidin' der
frau uf a cross road's jestice furstays how to be ticklin'
Brindle's fancy, as Nancy's be doin', un no mistake."

"Guess it's a bargain (handing over the silver dol-

240 Cherished Memories.

lars). Sure, she'll be following quietly 'long behind
th' squire's mare?"

"No doubt; no mistake; much success to ye un'
yer own Susanna when she kimi to do her milkin'/'
examining the cash to make sure he hadn't been
hoaxed.

"Un now, me financier, seein' Menno got Brindle
out uf der way, in 'fordin' Susanna a leetle innocen'
'musement, it's der Bishop who may be callin' next
fur der loan uf Nancy's big copper kettle fur eppel-
bilin', im' in der absence uf der head uf der farm,
ye kin be gittin' off on der head-pUlar uf der faith
der two kittles mit daylight showin' through 'em.
'Gin, when der Patershine kimi fur der loan uf a set
harness, ye kin be lettin' der Pater heve der set cumin'
fnun der sale. Un' now since der be nuthin' lef ' but
what der sales-cryer call 'simdries,' des ye kin be
loadin' on der fish-monger, at a glana venic iver der
price bersalt."

"Yes, Menno, apart from any more visits, I am
ready to express my imqualified disapproval of your
recent actions; they don't tally well, coming from a
farmer in whom I've always had unbounded confi-
dence for fair dealing with your fellow-man 1"

"Alia recht; im' while Menno 'predates yer wurds
uf respec', it's only a lesson in finance I'm givin' ye
in 'quaintin' ye mit der ways uf country life. Fur,
'cordin' to Mengen's 'sperience, dere be in ivery dealer
in livestock a leetle uf der alta Satan mixt in his natur'i
same as in der Aldemey, im' razorbacks; im' in des
Jestice Dugan be no 'ception to der rule; fur in nine

A Lesson in Finance. 241

cases out uf ten cumin' 'fore him, der costs go to der
fellow havin' der means to be payin' em, be he der
prosecutor or defendant, un who, deservin' uf jestice,
don't git, un no mistake!"

"Uf 'coose," continued Mengen, as he locked the
stable door, "dealin' in like-stock majm't be 'cordin'
to der Scriptures, but it's der way uf der wurld. 'Gin,
while ye kin be trustin' yer neighbors on gineral prin-
c'ples, tisn't safe to be takin' enny religious chances,
or to be trustin' in Prov'dence when ye kmn to dicker
mit yer fellow-man in der stock uf der farm. Un'
now, to be concludin', be sajdn' nuthin' to Nancy,
who may be tinkin' der Aldemey started iver in search
uf der blasted razorbacks, im' captured by sume
jedge uf blooded stock."

''The razorbacks, Menno! You don't mean to be
telling me the squealers have deserted the Mengen
homestead? Seems I've noticed the pens deserted."

"Veil, yis; de heve gone; im mebbe, if ye live till
Thanksgivin' kum roun', we may be hevin' a leetle
fox-chase mit der razorbacks out-nmnin' der beagles.
Ye see," resorting to his red bandanna, "it wus only
a hour' go when Mengen ousgefimen hut that both
had slipped through a six-inch openin'. Catch 'em?
thought so at one time mit Bowser holdin' on to both
der tails, im' tighter un' a possum in a steel trap."

For some days after this "lesson in finance," as
Mengen put it, all kinds of rumors were on tongues'
end around the school. Nor was I without a presenti-
ment of what was likely to happen to Squire Dugan's
Susanna when the Aldemey started to kicking up
didos, not by any means an unusual occurrence.
16

242 Cherished Memories.

However, as I had been an eye-witness, and as I
had reason to infer, a party to the "deal," I naturally
kept silence, manifesting at no time undue curiosity
in such rumors as were afloat. But as the school is
the telegraphic medium through which all kinds of
gossip find their way to the home, I hadn't long to
wait until Mengen's own grandchildren had carried
the news of what had happened to the squire's better-
half. All that was necessary was to wait. At last,
Menno, b'mping from the porch with letter in hand,
exclaimed, "It's der alta mon who's been receivin'
des perlite note to call iver at Jestice Dugan's oflSce
mitout delay on important business uf a dermestic
character."

"Of a domestic character!" I repeated, seeing there
was something resting heavily on his conscience.
For well I knew that, apart from dealing in live-stock,
Menno Mengen's word was at all times as good as his
bond. Indeed, as far as I was able to learn, no asper-
sion had ever been cast upon his name. I had further-
more learned that even should Mengen be brought
before the bishop, all charges would be dismissed, in
accordance with the unwritten law which placed all
dealing in live-stock beyond the pale of the church.

"Of a domestic character," I repeated for the sec-
ond time; this C3mical reflection was not to pass with-
out a retort.

"None uf yer reflectin' ; it's only a invite fur Mengen
to be actin' as pall-bearer iver at der stone meetin'-
house. Der letter wus writ on der last Sabbath, der
day uf der Susanna's taken uff mit a spell uf der

I

Mose, the Grave-Digger. 243

flwump-fever, ich denxt, un' bless me, des is Fridawk,
what sume of der superstit'ous call hangman's day."

''Yes, Menno," came my reply, in an undertone,
"there may be a hanging in this locality."

"Der dihinker! guck a mole ous; none uf yer re-
flecting in remindin' Menno uf der Lechler hangin'
iver in der stadt. But to be furgittin' sich tings, as
it's niver too late to be showin' a friendly feelin' fur
der parted, ye might be drivin' iver to der meetin-
house mit a few geraniums to be placin' on Susanna's
grave. Un' since Menno kume to tink it iver, ye
might be composin' a few werses fur her hed-stone.
Un' on yer way hame, it might be well to stop iver at
Jestice Dugan's oflBce, notifyin' his honor that, owin'
to a spell uf der rheumatiz. Farmer Mengen's words
uf symp'thy musdt be answerin' fur his presence in
sheddin' a tear iver Susanna's last restin'-place."

To have done less than helping the much-discon-
certed farmer out of his dilenmia, whether his sus-
picions were well-founded or otherwise, would have
been to prove imgratef ul to my tutor of the farm.

Losing no time, the early morning following, astride
"Old Trusty," I reached the graveyard an hoiu* later,
and meeting Sexton Strebig, sitting on a marble slab,
was told the following story:

"Thinking his Susanna had been sent into the
next world by one of an Aldemey's spiral twists.
Justice Dugan hurried over to the sexton to arrange
for the funeral, which would be along at high-noon
the day following. I lost no time in getting Mose,
my colored assistant, to digging, and he was detained

244 Cherished Memories.

late into the night in giving Susanna's grave its finish-
ing touches."

''Yes, yes," came the mournful shake of the head,
"all might have turned out for the best except for
Squire Dugan's impatience in strolling around among
the tomb-stones to make siu*e there wouldn't be any
hitch in the burial ceremonies, as there sometimes is
when the colored Mose gets loaded down with too
much tangle-foot."

Up to this moment I was in a quandary as what
was to follow. What the result might have been had
it been night instead of day, I had no means of know-
ing, except to beat a hasty retreat homeward without
sufficient consolation to relieve Mengen of his rheu-
matism. But as I had been sent on a mission involv-
ing life or death, with such consequences likely to
follow, it was a duty I owed to the living as well as to
the dead, to remain to learn the sequel to an opisode
to which I was in noway a party except as silent wit-
ness over on the Mengen homestead. And now, at
this much later day, I am only too happy to be able
to relate the sexton's story, one of my many other
experiences while I boarded on the Mengen home-
stead.

"Seem'd, however," continued the sexton, after
lighting his pipe, "the justice, with an eye to his own
interests, got to skylarking 'roimd in search of his
Susanna's last resting-place, when lo, what should
his eyes behold, as he imagined, but a ghost bobbing
up and down out of his old woman's grave. As the
head of the 'imp' went down, up went the head of

A Shot at Satan. 245

Justice Dugan. And so, for a time; each kept bobbing
up and down trying to wear the other out, with Sexton
Strebig leaning out of the window of his bedroom
wondering who was to come out first best. At last,
after playing hide and seek with the supposed ghost,
the squire, thinking the place too small to be hold-
ing his Satanic majesty and his own Susanna without
too much crowding, started off at a double-quick for
his office, where he sat himself down looking up the
rights of a ghost's taking possession of his property
without a permit from either himself or the sexton.
Not finding any act in the digest to meet the case in
point, the learned Justice Dugan started to framing
a law that couldn't be overruled by a higher court,
providing any of the ghost's relations should be
coming 'round sueing him for a breach of the peace.
Placing the new act among the other forms of Black-
stone, the dispenser of justice reached for his rifle,
and back to this old graveyard he came to put the
new act into execution. On, on, the pussy squire
kept sneaking his way among the gravestones, when
what should his eyes behold but the same Mr. Ghost's
head bobbing up and down out of his own Susanna's
grave. At last, growing weary, he just let bang, when
out jumped old Satan with a yell, only to disappear
a moment later out of sight. When the coast was
clear, the squire crept his way along to find his spouse's
last resting-place, needing only a little rounding up
at the comer from which Mr. Ghost made good his
escape."
''It so happened," resumed the sexton to his at^

246 Cherished Memories.

tentive listener; only too anxious for the sequel, ''that
on the morning following, as I sat by the squire's
side recounting Susanna Dugan's many good quali-
ties, who should step into his office but my faithful
assistant Mose, minus one of his ears, compelling
Sexton Strebig to juke into one comer of the fire-
place."

"Ach, an' th' top o' th' morning* to ye, Moses! An'
what can Justice Dugan be doin' tuie ye, seein' he's
sittin' here weepin' his eyes out fur th' loss o' his be-
loved Susanna, who's soon to be laid low 'neath th'
weepin' willows?"

"Am dere any 'pinion in de diges', Squire, protect-
in' an ole grabe-digger in persuin' de labors ub his
callin? Ye see, it's des way, while des chile wus ober
las' ebening, gibbin' de las' fin'shin' touches to dat
ole woman's grabe o' youm, de debil, he come prowlin'
'roun' an' takin' des colored pusson fur one ub dem
city-poets, copyin' th' 'scriptions off de mon'ments,
he jis' let bang, cuttin' off des darkey's right ea.'"

" Ach, an' it's th' law ye want, Mose?" added Justice
Dugan, wiping away a tear.

"Dat am de size ub it, boss," leaning forward with
the place of the missing appendage resting in the
hollow of his hand.

"Sorry to be informin' ye, me old colored friend,
that there's nothin' in th' law coverin' yer case. But
if it be consolin' to yer feelin's (drawing down the
leather-boimd digest), th' jestice'll be readin' to ye a
new act he's been preparin' to be meetin' jis' sich cases,
an' which may be in yer favor or f umince ye, all de-
pendin' on th' wordin'.'! (Reads the new act.)

Moae Resigns. 247

''Dat am a bad showin' fur des colored pusson, it
am fur a fac', Squire. No way den to be pun'shin' de
debil fur de loss ub des chile's ea'?"

''No, no, as I've said, th' new act's plain in its word-
in' as be th' loss o' yer right ear. But if Justice Dugan
may be suggestin' a way out o' yer troubles, take
this old rifle o' the squire's, an' afther th' cer'monies,
ye kin be hidin' behind one o' them Rev'lutionary
monuments durin' th' wee hours o' th' night, an' if
good luck be with ye, ye kin bang 'way, gittin' one o'
Satan's ears in place o' th' missin' one. How do this
sthrike ye, me imlucky grave-digger?"

''Des case am widdrawn, Mr. Jestice Dugan, an' de

office ub grabe-digger am vacan'. No mo' shubblin'

in de hard clay ober de jes' an de unjes'; ober de rich

an' de poo'; so fare de well, Mr. Jestice, an' may de

uawd hab mercy on de soul ub yer faithful Susanna.'!

"But, Mose," turning and wiping away another
tear, "don't ye know that Susanna's lyin' in th' next
room 'side th' planner waitin' fur ye to be doin' th'.
las' act o' th' cer'monies? An' don't ye know, Mose,
that ye're growin' old and feeble, an' haven't long to
live? Now, what reason will ye have to give to old
Saint Peter when ye come to stand 'fore him face to
face with yer right ear missing?"

"Lawd, Mr. Jestice Dugan, des colored pusson he
got all dat figgered out; fur when dat ebil day come,
it's Mose who'll be jukin' roun' 'hind Jestice Dugan,
showin' up de lef ea', sure as yer a libbin jestice."

"Ha, ha, ha 1 a pretty well-concocted yam. But
what, Mr. Sexton Strebig, became of Susanna? Not

248 Cherished Memories.

still over in the old sitting room awaiting a decent
interment? To learn all about the old lady's final
ending is my mission, aside from your improbable
story. Ah, but may be, she isn't dead after all, only
lying in a trance the outcome of a sudden shock to
her nervous system, the result of an Aldemey's spiral
twists, as I am now led to believe," quizzically re-
torted the searcher after information, ready to de-
part.

"Come to think it over, rather recall there was
something said by Justice Dugan of how his old
woman had been laid low by a recently-purchased
Aldemey. Be this as it may, Susanna, hearing the
little setto between Mose and her own man, straight-
ened up in her fineries, declaring that if she couldn't
be given a decent send-oflf by the colored grave-digger,
she'd be deferring the burial ceremonies imtil a more
convenient season, even if she had to be disappointing
the women-mourners, gathered 'roimd, discussing their
own chances of marrying the disconsolate justice."

*'0h, ho, but who comes there!" suddenly ex-
claimed the sexton, jumping to his feet. "Yes, I'll
be hanged if it isn't Squire Dugan with the blasted
kicker; brought her over as part payment for the
loss of Mose's right ear, in order to avoid a suit for
damages. And now, young man, keep shady and
allow Sexton Strebig to interrogate the justice with-
out arousing his suspicions.

"Holy Moses! And such a specimen! And where,
Mr. Justice Dugan, did you come across the like of
this?" rushing to the road to meet the owner of what

Farmer Sweeny the Next Victim. 249

I myself had recognized as the same Aldemey piuv
chased at Memio Zimro's sale several weeks before.

"Come 'cross th' loike o' this! Jis' out givin'
Brindle a leetle exercise 'fore shippin' th' blooded
beauty to th' 'Cattle Show' over in th' city o' New
York, where she'll be winnin' first prize fur her foine
qualities."

"Oh, ho, and that's a horse of another color! Tak-
ing her to the cattle show, eh?" repeated the sexton,
glancing her over with his trained eye. "And by the
way, how's Susanna? Recovered from the trance,
the result of being kicked almost into the next world,
and by none other than this same blasted reprobate.
Come, Mr. Dugan, let's play fair; own up to the
Aldemey's faults, and may be Sexton Strebig can be
aiding you in getting the slab-sided quadruped off
your hands to Farmer Sweeny, the bishop's tenant,
coming yonder, provided, of course, he hasn't heard
of your own Susanna's as well as of Nancy Mengen's
misfortime with the kicker's habits."

"Ach, it's th' top o' th' momin' to ye. Farmer
Sweeny! An, it's a splendid specimen o' a Aldemey
Jestice Dugan's been importin' from th' Channel
Islands by first boat. And now, if ye're open fur a
bargain, dismount, look th' beauty over; it won't
cost ye more 'an yer time, imless ye're in th' himior
o' addin' th' like o' Brindle to th' Bishop's stock o'
half-breeds," added the seller, assisting the would-be
piu*chaser from his saddle, as the other two stood
silent witnesses to the dicker so soon to follow.

"Unless Farmer Sweeny's eyes deceive him, it's th'

250 Cherished Memories,

cross-roads' jestice — a honest man if there be one in
all der country 'roun."

"An' bless ye, it's the meetin' o' two — ^th' one bein'
as honest as th' other; so, look the 'prize-winner'
over, an' if ye're on th' lookout fur a bargain, with
yer eyes fur yer market, it won't be necessary fur the
jestice to be takin' Brindle to th' cattle show, 'mong
th' rich buyers o' th' city."

"Recommen' her a goot, free milker, an' gentle, o'
course, squire?"

"Gentle, Farmer Sweeny 1 It's th' preserver o' th'
peace might be addin' if ye heve any misgivin's as to
her gentleness, run over an' ask Susanna, who, fur
three long hours lay by th' kritter's side without
winkin' her lef eye. Th' fac' is. Farmer Sweeny, if
it hadn't been fur th' diskivery o' Susanna by th'
jestice hisself, th' old lady might still be keepin' com-
pany with Brindle over in th' stable, seein' that they
both hed become a leetle 'fectionate, one with th'.
other."

"Yaw, yaw," with a shake of the head, "o' a dawny
color, nicht too yoimg, nicht too olt; a goot im' free
milker, mit an orraca goota dis'sition," soliloquized
the farmer, adjusting his spectacles, glancing first at
her eyes, then stepping aside, taking a broader view
in perspective, with an occasional glance at the "go-
between" sexton, who stood with a grinning look of
approval. For another moment. Farmer Sweeny
stood bending forward, muttering to himself, "a pail-
ful momin' un' evenin'; des much cream fur butter;
des much skim-milk fur de pigs, levin' der balance fur

Similarity of Stock Dealing. 251

der bishop's alta frau fur der deitscher cheese,
macha."

"Der price, spot cash, squire?"

"Sixty dollars, a 'vance o' ten over th' price paid,
th' half o* which will be compensatin' Sexton Strebig,
'count o' th' misunderstandin' 'tween th' squire an'
hisself," in an undertone.

"Sixty dallah! a gla venic high, denxt nicht?"
Then, "Nemma Farmer Sweeny's sixty-day note?"

"No, no; can't be takin' no man's note; spot cash
or no sale, with six per cent, thrown off fur prompt
payment, throwin' in halter for good luck."

"Gla vennic iver high in der price," concluded
Farmer Sweeny, opening the strings of his leather
pouch, coimting out the required sum, minus the dis-
coimt. Then as a parting word: "Der Aldemey is
net fur der olt mon's own use, but fur der bishop's
frau, who's gittin tired o' th' obstreperous kind."

"For th' bishop's wife, Rebecca!" observed the
now awakened justice, turning to depart. "Wa'll,
wa'll, my old friend, if th' jestice might be sayin' 'fore
leavin' ye an' Brindle, that it mightn't be well to be
placin' too much stress on th' kritters domestic qual'-
ties, nor f lu* ye to be tellin' th' bishop that th' infernal
reprobate come from jestice Dugan o' th' 'Cross Roads,'
who buyed her from Manngo Mengen o' th' two-
hundred acre homestead."

On my homeward journey, my stock in trade, as an
observer of passing events, had enhanced a hundred
fold. And as between the dealings of the city-
sharpers and those of the common run of farmers,

252 Cherished Memories.

the difference, if anything, to my mind, was such as
usually prevails among dealers in h've stock. Judged
from the higher point of morality, this difference was
as difficult to define as were Brindle's innate quali-
ties.

What struck the young amateur farmer most
forcibly, after relating the result of his escapade, was
the suddenness with which Mengo's rheumatism sub-
sided.

CHAPTER XXI.

The German Settler and British Redemptioner.

An Uncle's Cruelty.

BEFORE leaving the Mengen homestead there was
one story coining from the more than ordinarily
educated Nancy Mengen, the main facts of which may
be reb'ed on as a part of the English Courts' Records,
as far back as 1743.

As I recall the narrative, with certain foundation-
stones of the old stone cabin still to be seen on the
Mengen homestead, it was in the Spring of 1727, that
a few farmers from the lower Conestoga stood at the
foot of Market street, Philadelphia, awaiting the
good ship, "The William and Sarah," with its cargo
of human freight, comprising in all some four himdred
souls, divided into ninety families. Having made
known their intention of settling in Pennsylvam'a,
the heads of the families were required imder oath to
declare their allegiance to the King of Great Britain
and fidelity to the Proprietary of the province.

Among the number who stepped from the ship was
a middle-aged Crerman from one of the Swiss provinces,
with his wife Nancy and only daughter Rebecca, or
Beckie, a girl of thirteen. As it didn't require any
large sum to purchase a farm of two hundred acres,
which, at the time, was still a part of the county of
Chester,' our Mennonite farmer wasn't long in securing

253

254 Cherished Memories.

a land grant for a strip of land lying along or nearby
the "Old State Road," some forty miles west of the
Delaware.

Reaching their destination in an imbrO^en wilder-
ness, it was during this same Spring, after many hard- I
ships, that a stone cabin was erected, with its tall
stone chimney sending its smoke over the tops of the
lofty oaks. Within this crude cabin, Menno, Nancy
and Beckie settled themselves down during the long
winter to follow, to endure such hardships as only
the early settlers knew when the broad acres were a i
wilderness. . '

"Picture, if you can," exclaimed this goodly grand-
mother, as I sat in her presence, "of a yoimg girl of
thirteen, sitting by the open fire hearth on a cold,
dreary Christmas-eve, thinking of her home across
the sea, only to find her way to the loft, through the
many crevices of which the snow, sleet and rain foimd
their way. Ah, yes I" she continued, wiping away a
tear, "if hardships Beckie and others had to endure
over in the Fatherland, there was 'Old Santa Claus,'
who seldom failed to come with a pack of toys on his
back. Now all this waif of the forest could do during
this Christmas eve was to stand at the cabin-door
longing for just one of her former girl companions."
And here Nancy hesitated as she pointed to where
the stone cabin stood in the days of the long ago, to
add, a moment later, that in the family of the Mengens,
even down to the present, there has always been one
named "Beckie."

Omitting much that might be woven into the story

THE PRESENT DAY BECKIE

Redemptioner Secured. 255

to give it romantic effect, it was after the snow-drifts
began to melt away that it began to dawn on the
farmer's mind that what he most needed, in addition
to his own and Nancy's two strong hands, was one
yoimger in years, not only as a laborer on the farm,
but to keep company with Beckie, who was fretting
her yoimg life away for a few of her playmates, now
so far on the other side of the great "divide."

With this double purpose in view, the day came
when the farmer determined to work his way back
to Philadelphia on horseback in the hope of purchasing
a redemptioner, one of the many who, at times, were
sold at so much per head, their time of service being
limited as per contract.

At last, after dismoimting at the wharf, his heart
began to stir at seeing an American ship unloading
her passengers and freight. Rushing aboard and
making inquiry of the captain, he was informed that
his only hope of securing a redemptioner was in the
person of a yoimg English lad, in his thirteenth year,
who had shipped in his care, under sealed instruc-
tions to have him taken as far into the wilderness as
to make his return impossible. Beyond this promise
and a few stipulations, the youthful redemptioner
was bargained for to serve as a hireling for a term of
thirteen years. Why the lad's term of service was
fixed at the unlucky number thirteen, had not occurred
at the time to the farmer, nor had he taken the pre-
caution to have the lad brought into his presence
imtil after paying down so much ready cash into the
hands of the captain. His only thought may have

256 Cherished Memories,

been the pleasure it might afford Beckie on his return
with a boy of her own age.

Passing to the hold of the vessel, the youth was in-
formed by the captain he had at last reached the
point of his destination, and that he was to pass into
the hands of his new master. After picturing the
many pleasures upon which he was to enter, he was
reminded that he was not to disclose his identity, nor
the names of his near or distant relations under penalty
of being locked up in the town jail for the balance of
his life. Thus, under the promise, any poor, helpless
lad might be compelled to subscribe, the homeless boy
was hustled into his owner's presence, under a non-
de-plume, and there compelled to swear allegiance to
his master, through an interpreter.

That he was of English parentage, with a sweet,
charming personality, needed only a glance at the
outlines of his face, with two eyes sparkling like dia-
monds. These, in addition to his long, dark, wavy
hair, which hung in ringlets over his well-shaped fore-
head, contrasted oddly with his suit of English cut
and finish, now showing signs of the usage it had
undergone in battling with the motion of the ship on
its long voyage over the Atlantic.

What the Mennonite's thoughts were as he stood
glancing his purchase over may never have been
known. If, at one moment he had cause to regret his
bargain on account of the difference in speech, the
next, might it not be a blessing in disguise, in having
on the farm a young lad who could act as interpreter
in the numerous little trades between the trappers

San of an Irish Nobleman, 257

and himself. Then again came the thought of Beckie,
how pleasant it would be for each to teach the other,
the one the German, the other the English? Again,
as he reasoned, there would be little gossip between
them on his homeward journey, and then, not imtil
both had become familiar with each other's Ian-
guage.

There was one other thing resting on the Mennon-
ite's conscience, mightn't he himself be arrested as
a kidnapper in harboring a youth under the legal age?
Making these surmises known to the captain, he was
assured that no such legal entanglements were likely
to occur, owing to the redemptioner's willingness to
seek his fortime in the new world.

The contract having been arranged, the town's
strollers the early morning following might have seen
the hapless lad perched behind his owner as they
together went their way over their forty-mile journey,
landing at last on the great-great-grandfather's home-
stead — ^the cabin already mentioned.

And now, apart from what tradition has handed
down, certain facts since gathered from reliable sources,
may awaken renewed interest in what is to follow:

"Arthur Annesley (Lord Altham), as the reader
may now learn from a transcript of the English court's
record, married Mary Sheffield, the natural daughter
of the Earl of Buckingham. By her, in 1715, he had
a son James, the redemptioner of whom mention has
been made. The year following, the parents having
had some domestic differences, a separation was the
result. The father, contrary to the wish of the
17

258 Cherished Memories.

mother, took exclusive possession of his son, James,
manifesting much fondness for him, imtil 1722, when
he formed some intimacy with a Mrs. Gregory. His
.legal wife having died in the meantime, no doubt of
a broken heart, and Mrs. Gregory expecting to become
his second wife, exerted herself in alienating his affec-
tions from his son by insinuating that the lad was not
his lawful heir. Having succeeded, she had him
placed in a school in Dublin.

"It so happened, in November, 1727, Lord Altham
died, and his brother Richard, wishing to possess the
estate and title, took measures to get rid of his nephew
James, by having him placed on board an American
vessel, which sailed from Dublin in 1727. Arriving
in Philadelphia in the early Spring, it was on board
this ship he was met by the Mennonite farmer, Menno
Mengen.

"For some cause not entirely clear, he ran away
from his master after having served twelve years of
his allotted time. Alone, dressed in a suit of bagging
or 'slouchcloth,' such as constituted the only wearing
apparel of those early days, he made his way westward
toward the Susquehanna, where he was arrested as a
runaway and locked up in the wooden jail at Wright's
Ferry.

"He was no longer a boy in his thirteenth year, but
a tall, well-proportioned young man, well past his
majority. And yet his appearance indicated that he
was not to the manner bom, nor indeed of 'Dutch'
ancestry, as the German settlers were spoken of even
as far back as the settlement of the county.

Identified by Countrymen, 259

''Proving himself a fine singer, the result of his early
training, it was only natural for the curious to gather
'round this log structure to enjoy the sweet strains
which came from within this forbidden place of refuge,
showing that amid all his long years of bondage, there
was still within him that one touch of nature that
makes the world kin. There may have been other
reasons for the interest manifested in the yoimg man's
welfare, who seemed unable or unwilling to give an
account of himself when questioned by the authorities
as to who he was, whence he came and whither he
was traveling. Apart from his being homeless and
friendless, there was a certain something to convey
the impression that he might have been a spy, owing
to the fact that he positively refused to disclose his
identity. Nor, perchance, was he to be censured in
forgetting his own name, and may be, the town from
which he had been shipped twelve long years before.
However, it was by the merest accident he was iden-
tified as a refugee fleeing from his Mennonite master,
and to whom he was forthwith returned to serve out
the remainder of his allotted time as a redemptioner.

''But as all good things come to those who have
the patience to await the hour of their coming, so the
year 1740 brought a bright ray of hope to the re-
demptioner's dampened spirits. It so happened
during this same year that two Irishmen, John and
William Broders, were strolling over the King's High-
way through the 'up' coimtry among the German
Mennonites. As m'ght approached, they knocked at
the door of the Mengen cabin and were given shelter;

260 Cherished Memories.

for it was one of the unwritten laws among the first
German settlers that no traveler be tmned away
without a night's lodging and a little something to eat
and drink.

''Entering into conversation with the hireling,
they weren't long in discovering that they were sev-
erally from the town of Dumaine, in the coimty of
Wexford, Ireland, and that the redemptioner, James
Annesley, was the son of Arthur.

''It takes a vivid imagination to grasp the deb'ght
^this annoimcement produced, as it fell upon the very
heart and soul of the poor bound lad of a dozen years
before, when he was carried from the ship to the stone
cabin. What followed, as they all three sat together
talking over many a little episode occurring on the
Emerald Isle when he was a lad, can better be imag-
ined than described. But if their meeting was a
happy one, opening up a new world to James Annesley,
it was also a moment of sadness to the Mennonite
farmer, his good wife Rebecca, not to mention the
plain Mennonite maid Beckie, who had grown from
a discontented girl of thirteen into a lovely young
woman.

"It was not, however, until all arrangements had
been made for the redemptioner's departure to his
far-off Eastern home, and the news made known to
Beckie, that moments of rejoicing gave way to weep-
ing. If these two had not already become betrothed,
there was at all times enough of 'each for all and all
for each' to have cemented their lives as two in one.
Of course, during this long interval two sons had come

Returns to Native Land. 261

to bless the family circle. But what were they to the
redemptioner compared with gentle Beckie, who had
joined him in many of his rambles along a rippling
stream that goes meandering the same to-day as
nearly two centuries ago! Isn't it reasonable to sup-
pose that in these little heart-to-heart talks James
had told Beckie the secret nearest his own heart?
Then it was from the Mennonite maid that James
learned to speak the German, as it was from the re-
demptioner, this lone flower of the forest had learned
the English. But as all love episodes must have an
ending, it wasn't to be that James was to return to
marry Beckie, such a happy consummation as the
sympathetic reader could most desire. Whatever the
intention of James, something occurred across the
sea to prevent what might have been woven into a
romance. But why picture a scene that had better
rest for the reader to dwell upon during his or her
quiet moments?

''As an historical fact, apart from such intentions
as James had of ever returning to the Mengen home-
stead, the two Broder brothers actually kept their
word, in volimteering to go back to Ireland to testify
to the discovery they had made in the new world.
Reaching Philadelphia, passage was furnished this
trio by Admiral Vernon, of the West Indies, at the
request of Robert Ellis, Esq., a resident of the city of
Brotherly Love, as it has since been designated, for
its good will toward all men.

"Arriving in London, our former redemptioner's
troubles were only to begin. Having accidentally

262 Cherished Memories.

killed a man, he had to stand trial, being acquitted,
notwithstanding every effort was made by his im-
natural uncle to have him convicted. Regaining his
freedom, action was brought against Lord Altham,
going to trial November, 1743, with a verdict in favor
of James. An appeal was taken to the House of
Lords, but, unfortunately, while this was pending,
the plaintiff died, leaving his uncle in quiet possession
of his ill-gotten gains. For a brief time only was he
permitted to enjoy the fruits of his long life of intrigue
and deception. Compelled to bear the ignomy for the
wrongs he had committed, he soon passed away,
exhibiting the spectacle of the finished villain in the
Irish nobleman."

With what has been set forth as an old-time historical
episode, it remains for those disposed to discredit the
Mengen homestead as the place where the redemp-
tioner was discovered by the two Irish Broders to
locate more definitely the farmer residing on the
Lancaster road some forty miles west of the Dela-
ware.

CHAPTER XXII.

A Letter to Charue, by Old-Time Cronie — Fresh
Recollections by "Billy."

IT was after listening to this somewhat graphic
story that I betook myself to the attic, when my
eyes instinctively fell upon a letter received some
months previous. If, therefore, the following reply
be not in the exact words as originally penned, it is
still the recollection of half a century ago, with such
additions as a larger experience of farm-life has en-
gendered.

"Hickory Grove, April 1, 1859.
"Dear Charlie:

"With the incoming of this lovely Spring month,
with its bright simshine and balmy air, your friend is
impelled, by a boyish impulse, to make up for lost
time by penning you a somewhat lengthy letter before
starting home.

"As it occurs to me, it wasn't necessary for you
to remind your Lime Street cronie that fully a half
decade had gone by since you and the other boys
followed the Conestoga team to Witmer's bridge.

"And now, looking back over the years that have
gone, I can most positively declare that never, except
in rare instances, have I ever regretted starting from
the city which, to quote your own language, is still
flourishing like a 'green bay tree in a virgin forest.'

263

264 Cherished Memories.

Indeed, Charlie, it should have occurred to you that
if anyone was flourishing, it's 'Billy/ who's turned
teacher or 'master,' a term usually applied to all
pedagogues.

"Well, aside from any attempt to become your
rival in poetic lore (though at times I've assumed that
distinguished honor of being the poet-laureate of
Paradise), during the past eight months I've been
both teacher and farmer, always in the best of health,
and as I may say, seldom overworked in the school-
room, with but a handful of scholars.

''Starting with the beautiful September, when I
fortunately struck the Mengen homestead, there was
plenty to do on the farm before the rigor of winter
had thrown its mantel over all of Nature's handicraft.
And as October set in with 'com-huskin',' 'eppel-butter
bilin,' there was little time for the reading of the
Dutch newspaper by Mengen, and which, at this
particular season, was used by Nancy in doing up her
jars of gooseberry, currant and quince jellies for the
goodly bishop and his Polly, who seldom failed to put
in their appearance to partake of the many delicacies
Nancy had stored away in her pantry.

"Strictly speaking, it was *clearing-up month,' in
which all the many good things, as Nancy expressed
it, were stored away in her pantry 'to keep the wolf
from the door' when the snow lay heavy over field
and highway, thus shutting out from the school and
the farm the busy, active world — the city beyond.

"And here let me say, it was during one of these
bright October mornings that I found Nancy out in

A Winter Prophet. 265

her garden or 'truck patch' shelling beans and binding
up the rose-bushes to protect them from the ravages
of 'Old Jack Frost/ who had never failed to come
along in giving the leaves a rainbow-coloring before
the stormy month of November had claimed them
as his own. And it was here in this old-fashioned
garden, where had bloomed the many varieties — ^lady-
slippers, sunflowers and other old-time plants, now
almost extinct, that I found Mengen in one of his
happiest moods, ready to take issue with the Dutch
almanac, by exclaiming, 'Be sure, Nancy, to protect
der rose-bushes mit plenty of rich garden loam, for
der comin' winter's goin' to be a tryin' one for der
many poor peoples livin' iver in den stadt where they'll
hardly be knowin' how to make both ends meet imtil
der early Spring kom round thawin' 'em out as it'll
be drawin' the "rheumatiz" from Mengen's jints.'

'"Yes, yes,' he went on, 'there's nothin' to beat der
Spring in wakin' up old dame Nature in gettin' our
farm well started on the road to peace un' plenty.
Of course, sometime it be a little late in kumin', but
she generally manages to get here in time for the
sowin' of der seed. Un' now, to be gettin' to the
pint,' he resumed, 'it's goin' to be one of der alta old-
fashioned winters, mit snow kiverin' der tops of the
Canada thistle, iver by the longa lane.' And it was
only necessary for his 'goof Nancy to ask what kind
of signs, not contained in the John Baer Almanac, he
had been discovering, to start the Prophet Mengen to
declaring, in his Dutch idiom:

"'Not uf der goose-bone kind, to be hittin' it one

266 Cherished Memories,

day un' missin' it der next, un' which der philosopher
livin' iver in Berks county's been makin.' No, Nancy/
he continued, 'it isn't bercause der bail's stickin'
closer to der nor'-west side uf der alta gum-tree; un'
beside, if ye care to know, 'tisnt because der ground-
hog's peradin' mit his vind'cation-cap tied 'roun' his
neck in predictin' a eariy Spring that Mengen's got
in mind at this perticular moment; it's der blasted
razorbacks that heve been findin' der way back to der
farm uf der own volition, un' so thin, as to be needin'
der whole summer's crop uf com to be gittin' 'em in
shape fur Christmas butcherin', un' no mistake.

"'Dere back, yes, der back, un' mit a new crop uf
bristles standin' square up on ends, that'll be savin'
Menno dere 'spense uf buyin' a fresh supply uf curry-
combs comin' winter. Un' so, if Mengen be a jedge
uf der signs that have never failed, it's der bristles uf
cella razorbacks that beats der goose-bone ivery time.
Un', Nancy, to be gettin' way frum der goose-bone,
Menno's been diskiverin' that der shingles uf der alta
Grumberger's bam heve been flarin' up on end, causin'
him to be kiverin' it durin' der down-goin' uf der
moon. Un' as der Squire Dugan's been writin' Menno,
it's der posts uf der FulstufiPs fence that heve been
taldn' theirselves upward, makin' der post-holes
ready fur 'nother plantin' uf posts mit der goin' down,
'stead uf der up-goin' uf der moon."

"And now, Charlie, after acquainting you with
some of the superstitious notions of not a few of our
Dutch farmers hereabout, you should have seen me
dressed on Saturdays in an every-day working-suit.

Hard-Working Germans. 267

costing at a country store not over two dollars, with
gallowses thrown in as a bid for future trade, I sup-
pose; although, with the great majority of farmers,
suspenders are largely an unknown quantity, with a
belt to take their place.

"Not to become too tiresome, it would have done
your eyes good to have attended a love-feast on the
barn-floor of Mengen's double-decker. On the morn-
ing of this one day above all others, there was no
scurrying 'round in the greasing of boots, no carrying
of wood, no brushing of clothes and doing of other
chores. No, for all manual labor has been done the
day previous, leaving this the blessed Sabbath to be
devoted to holy things. And when at last it opened
up, with the boys done up in their best Sunday-go-to-
meeting fixings, and Menno and Nancy in their plain
garb, few words were spoken as we betook ourselves
to the table for an early breakfast, imtil Mengen had
delivered himself of a prayer in which no mention
was made of Brindle nor the razorbacks.

"And here, Charlie, let me correct what has so gen-
erally become a mistaken impression, namely, that
the Dutch are clannish and hard task-masters, treating
their offspring little better than they do the stock of
the farm. What a libel on the customs of a commun-
ity little understood by the city people! Work them
they do during the busy harvest season, when even
the women occasionally take a hand in the harvest
field on the approach of a storm; and yet, it should
not be forgotten that it has been through work im-
ceasing that the Dutch have been able to hold the

268 Cherished Memories.

balance of power during such financial upheavals as
have carried more than one city-dweller to the verge
of bankruptcy. Of course, Charlie, the Amish have
their own peculiar notions of just how much education
is required to make good farmers out of the boys and
equally good house-wives out of the girls. But after
all, isn't it better to lay a good foundation in the four
fundamentals than to hurry them on through a college
before they have mastered fully anyone of these four
branches?

"They are not by any means as stupid as they
might seem when beyond their own environment.
We have seen a half dozen bimched together our-
selves on the town streets when boys, and yet, could
we have measured them by their own standard, the
chances are, barring our own conceited ideas of what
constitutes good citizenship, we ourselves might have
been found wanting in more than one particular,
notably our lamentable ignorance of 'farm-life.' It is
not alone the plumage that makes the bird a singer,
nor, indeed, an over-amount of self-assurance on the
part of town-youngsters, with hair parted in the
middle, that justifies them in turning critic by holding
up to ridicule their country cousins of the farm.

"And now, CharUe, in this attempted defense of
such Amish boys as I've met at a sale, a village store
and elsewhere, let me say that the recent talk I had
with Nancy has already been gathering fruit which
may in time make the Lancaster county farms yield
as much as a hundred-fold, over what they at present
produce. My little scheme was this: That each of her

Farming Recruits Needed. 269

grandsons be given a half-acre to be worked between
times in the raising of any one or all of the many
products the Mengen homestead can produce. To
make sure there would be no backing out by Mengen,
we've just gone over the farm staking a small plot for
each. Never saw boys more enthusiastic in their
zeal to persuade other nearby-farmers with sons to
enter into competition with themselves. What the
result is going to be, I may not be here to discover.
But of one thing I am sure, Charlie, that the farmer
who doesn't give his sons a chance on the farm, will
find that in the years to come they'll be deserting the
broad acres for the cities, which in time may become
congested. And now, what think you of a young
farmer-teacher's philosophy?

"With no intention of delivering a treatise on 'farm-
life' among the Dutch, I can go so far by saying that I
have caught on to sufficient of the dialect not to be
found wanting when summoned to partake of roast-
turkey, 'im' a gla venic brode-varst, metsel-sup, im'
paunhaus,' the very thought of which should be suf-
ficient to cause you to turn farmer instead of following
the trade of machinist. Do you know, Charlie, what
I've been thinking? There ought to be established in
every city a 'recruiting station' for the enUsting of
young men to become farmers. A few months of
actu^ experience would, in the opinion of your farmer-
teacher friend, be the equal of an education at a 'farm-
school.' To have lived and died without having
tasted of the bitters and sweets of rural life is but to
imitate the rose wasting its fragrance on the desert

270 Cherished Memories.

air. Growing poetic, eh? Can't help it, Charlie;
guess it must be the effects of the aroma coming from
Nancy's garden plot, where the roses have just started
to budding, and beneath where the honey-suckle vine
creeps its way along the sandstone walls of the old-
time homestead.

"Well, Charlie, seeing my goose-quill's showing the
effect of wear and tear, I should draw this rambling
letter to a close were it not for a desire to give you
an account of my visiting 'round with the motherly
Nancy on the Sabbath among all classes of Mennon-
ites, differing in their religious convictions as one star
differs from another. In this you must remember
that the term Mennonite is a relative one, embracing
sects divided on only minor points, such as you'll find
in every city.

''So changed have become my own views that I can
no longer view the German character through my
former boyish eyes, as in the days when seen parading
the streets on Whitmonday and circus days. Diffi-
cult to approach by the stranger, yet once you meet
them in their home-life, to have gained their confi-
dence is, figuratively speaking, to have their purse.
Along this line I can speak with some accuracy of farm-
ers and their wives I met at Menno Zimros' sale of
blooded stock, at the various wayside inns, where
the men who hadn't as yet joined meeting were prone
to indulge themselves in a few too many *eppel-jacks,'
and may be, a mint julep, which, if you've never tasted
more than one, the advice is, don't.

''However, aside from the insidious effects of a julep

A Country Funeral. 271

(from hearsay, of course), and referring again to the
various religious sects I have met, there are the 'Old
Mennonites' and an offshoot, called the 'New,' a dis-
tinct class of religionists well grounded in their own
faith, leading Menno to declare that they alone are
to reach the heavenly kingdom. Apart from these
are the Dimkards and Seventh-day Baptists, not as
numerous as they once were in this the 'up' country,
with the Omish or Amish, a people of simple garb.

"And lest I forget, there are the Welsh, on the far
East, the Huguenots in and around Paradise, as well
as the Scotch-Irish and Friends, residing largely in the
'Lower End.' Of these I know but little more than
what Justice Dugan has been telling Mengen before
he managed to get a blasted kicker of an Aldemey
off on his honor, at a ten advance 'uf der price ber-
salt,' with the halter thrown in for 'goota' luck. And
now, as a certain bishop is the sole owner of the
'kicker,' the chances are that the quadruped may in
due time reach one or the other of the Rubenstines in
exchange for a 'goota' workin' gowl. There is an
even chance, however, that Brindle may eventually
find her way to Squire Dugan's twin brother, residing
in what I'm told is the earthly 'Eden,' and to which
point I hope to find my way in due time.

"Before closing, let me describe what old 'Harry
Stiff would call 'a planting.' The meeting-house,
twenty by thirty, was crowded from center to circum-
ference, the only available space was that taken up
by the wood-stove in the middle of the room, and which
was kept at fever-heat, with the thermometer at the

272 Cherished Memories.

zero-point outside. To my mind, the deceased must
have been a very wicked soul while in the flesh, requir-
ing no less than three bishops to imdo what had been
done amiss in the flesh during his four-score and ten.
First, came two sermons of an hour each in German,
with one of greater length in broken English. At last,
when all was over in the meeting-house, the concourse
went their way to the nearby bur3ring plot, where
they laid his body down to rest, and where there was
more weeping over one who had reached the age of
Methuselt^ than I had ever heard in the city over
some miserly octogenarian who had failed into the
hands of 'Harry.' And yet, notwithstanding the
deceased's age, one good, old motherly soul was over-
heard to exclaim, as she bent over his grave, 'Der alta
dawdy died longa 'fore his time.'

''Ah, but at last, back to the house we went, and
what a spread! For a time I kept myself busy count-
ing the pies, custards, fasnachts, doughnuts, ginger-
bread, not to mention the more substantials. And
now, Charlie, if you are on the lookout for a wife and
helpmate, take a run over to the *up' country, and
I'll show you some of the prettiest Mennonite maids
you ever laid your eyes on. Were it not that they are
opposed to have their pictures taken, I'd be enclosing
those of such as I've met. And now, with the flavor
of Nancy's snitz pies finding its way into the loft, I
am admonished to get a move-on lest I miss another
of life's golden opportimities — a square meal.

"Your cronie of years gone by."

CHAPTER XXni.

A Tramp Through the "Up" Country — Schoeneck.
Ephrata — New Holland — Christiana.

IT was after reading Irving's "Sketch Book," and
before starting for home, that I became imbued
with the idea of reaching Fairview by a circuitous
route instead of taking the more direct way. In the
author's account of himself, he had this to say: "In
visiting the neighboring villages, the rambling propen-
sity strengthened with my years. Books of voyage
and travel became a passion; and it was only after
visiting my own country, her mighty lakes, her valleys
teeming with fertihty; her tremendous cataracts
thundering m their solitudes; her broad, deep rivers,
rolling in solemn silence to the ocean; her trackless
forests, where vegetation puts forth all its magnifi-
cence; her skies kindling with the magic of summer
clouds and glorious sunshine — ^it was only after look-
ing upon my own country's sublime and beautiful
natural scenery that a desire was created within me
to wander over scenes of renowned achievement — ^to
read as it were, the footprints of antiquity. "

Whether then, at the age of twenty-two I had be-
come imbued with the enthusiasm of Irving to cover
at least a portion of Lancaster county's nine hundred
square miles during this genial spring month of April,
I am at this much later epoch unable to say. And yet,

18 273

274 Cherished Memories.

my recollection is, that on refusing the loan of "Old
Trusty" and obeying the injunction of Menno and
Nancy to be sure to drop them a line after having ac-
quainted myself with the other parts of this "garden-
spot of America," I went my way in a northeasteriy
direction, stopping long enough in the village of Inter-
course to hand the key of the school-house over to
the venerable secretary, who at this time was a well-
to-do merchant, personally kindly disposed to the
teacher who for eight months had proved a thorn in
his side along the lines of his official duties as school-
directors.

Passing the race course where, some five years pre-
vious, I came near losing my only "fiver" with the
"thimble-rigger," I went my way aimlessly amid the
silent raptures of contentment, as I gazed upon the
magnificent panorama spread before my vision.
Further on, as I reached the tier of upper townships,
with the soft blue sky blending into harmony the
various shades of earth's first spring covering, I stood
watching the clouds of gray smoke rising heavenward
as a locomotive went speeding its way eastward be-
yond the imdulating acres spread like the revolving
forms of a kaleidoscope.

Making inquiry of the "deitcha" landlord of the
village I had entered, I was told in the idiom that I
was in Schoeneck (Shaneck), or beautiful view. And
oh I what a picture of imadomed splendor met my
eyes as I stood on an elevated platform, with the
"Gap hills" off in the distance to the south. Enter-
ing the hostelry for a newspaper, the only one I could {

I

t

Ephrata. 275

find was the German Volksfreund, published at the
county seat, to be discontinued a half century later,
as I have since learned.

Having familiarized myself with the reading of
Rupp, in addition to a certain experience gained in
visiting around among the "Dutch," with an ac-
quired familiarity of their customs, I wasn't alto-
gether a stranger in Schoeneck, where the vernacular
was the common expression. And here, it is well to
note the change of a half century later: instead of the
Dutch newspaper we have since found in this same
sandstone comer inn three of four others printed in
English, with magazines and other literature in the
same language.

As another of those singular coincidences, it was
close by, that one Harry Shirk and his son Michael
carried on the machine business in the later forties,
and for whom father had worked at one time for some
six months. Being absent for two weeks, I can well re-
call how we looked for his return with so much anxiety;
and of how he tol^ us children of the long stretches
of timber it was necessary to pass on his outward and
homeward joumgy.

To the best of my recollection, after warning the
people of Schoeneck to be on the lookout for the
blasted Aldemey, I passed on to the hamlet of Ephrata,
where the only places of interest were the Kloster
buildings and the extensive "Summer" Resort on the
"hill," which before the War of the Rebellion was
frequented by the elite from all sections of the country.
Nor has it since ceased to be a favorite place for those

276 Cherished Memories.

who love to spend a summer in this old-time resort
overlooking the town of Ephrata, since grown to be
one of the most home-like boroughs in the coimty.
In this description it needs not to be taken for granted
that I had prolonged my stay on the hill in getting
rid of my first hard-earned hundred dollars, as so
many other young men have since done here and
elsewhere in not knowing where or when the next
himdred was to turn up.

Here around the Kloster where a few of the Taefur,
or German Baptists, were still in evidence, I lingered
for a time to learn from one of the descendants that
the people who years before had made these buildings
their place of refuge had been called "Seventh-Day
People," because they kept the seventh instead of the
first day of the week as the Sabbath. What surprised
me was to learn that, from a printing press at the time
of the Revolution, just before the battle of German-
town, three wagonloads of books, in sheets, were
seized and taken away for cartridges. There was still
one other place made sacred — ^the small bur3ring plot
where a number of Revolutionary soldiers lay buried.
However, so many visits since have made the Kloster
and graveyard so familiar that few except the his-
torian think of pajring them a visit.

Leaving the banks of the Cocalico, it was the day
following I reached "Graefs Thai," or "Grove Run."
Falling in with one of the Graef's descendants, I was
to learn a story which to others may have become so
familiar as to make it conmionplace. And yet to me
it was a revelation, awakening a desire within me to

i

The SettlemerU of " Earl ". 277

linger on the homestead for hours. This, then, is the
narrative, which, although set forth by Rupp, had up
to this moment been overlooked by me:

As I recall, my informant had been a " schulemaister *'
for more than forty years; and learning that I had
become a member of what was gradually assuming the
dignity of a profession, he at once drew on his store-
house of memory, acquainting his guest with how the
locality had been named Graef's Thai.

As Graef is equivalent to Earl, a name given before
it was divided into Earl, East and West, the story of
how the original owner Hans Graef happened to locate
so far from his home along the lower Conestoga or
Pequea at the time the county was a wilderness,
proved intensely interesting to one not to the manner
bom.

The old settler's horses having strayed from his
home, he felt it his duty to go in search of them, which
at the time was an almost fruitless task. At last he
was repaid not only in the recovery of his stock, but,
what was of still greater value, in the discovery of a
fine spring in a heavily wooded spot at the head of
Grove Rim. '*In this Elysian," said he, "I shall fix
my permanent abode." Returning to his home, he
shortly after disposed of his effects, and returned to
where, under a white oak, near a spring, he built him-
self a log cabin in 1717.' ' Among other things, I was to
learn how this Swiss Mennonite had become a trader
among the Indians, and of how the magistrates in 1739
thought it proper to call at least one of the townships
''Earl," i. e., Graef.

278 Cherished Memories.

In return, how could I well help relating the episode
of the purchase of Brindle, the Aldemey, at Menno
Zimros' sale, and of the possibility of finding her
way to the Thai. For this bit of information I was
given a night's lodging and an early breakfast, and
later sent on my way to carry the news to the town
which lay at no great distance beyond.

" Kickers 1" exclaimed the old ex-pedagogue, as I
left him; ''such we have ever had with us of the human
kind, without a quadruped to produce an epidemic
among the stock of the farm."

Having performed this gratuitous service without
thanks of farmers when in convention assembled, I
took the shortest road to the village of nearly a mile
in length, lying along a great stretch of pike.

Entering the western end of what had been known in
the years gone by as Shyswamp, reminding me of
the razorbacks, I was to learn from another Simon,
gatekeeper, that I had entered a community of stUl
a higher t3rpe of German Mennonites, and whose
speech partook less of the idiom of Menno Mengen.

Bent on doing the old hamlet up to my heart's con-
tent, it was only natural that I should draw comparison
between the old and new residences, the great ma-
jority of the former being the survival of days when
the hamlet was in its swaddling clothes.

Having rested over night at the "Styer House" as
a guest of honor, I was detained long enough in New
Holland to be surfeited with such an array of fox-
race and horse stories happening at the Reamstown
fair as to make those I had heard over in old Leacock
turn to wormwood by comparison.

Charcoal Furnaces and Old Mansions. 279

Falling in with the Dillers, Rolands, Millers, Diften-
derfers and others, I soon learned my nearest way to
the Welsh settlement, where the Charcoal Furnaces
were still in active operation. Feeling that I owed
the village people something in return for their kind-
ness, what less could I do in return than to warn the
community at large of Brindle's vicious habits as a
kicker. To provide against any unforeseen approach
of the Aldemey, a committee was immediately dis-
patched to Simon the gatekeeper, to keep the gate
closed against all cattle known to have been purchased
from a certain Squire Dugan of the "cross-roads." In
resorting to such drastic measure opinion seems to be
divided, some arguing that as ''kickers" had always
been the rule rather than the exception in the town,
why prevent a poor quadruped from entering?

With the discussion becoming somewhat animated,
I went my way toward the next village, giving the New
Hollanders time to reconcile their differences. Pass-
ing the ''Blue Ball," where I had received my first
certifi-cate to "keep school," I hadn't gone so many
miles until I had reached "Goodville," and where, I
was led to believe by the name, all "kickers" had
years before been given a ticket-of-leave. In this,
however, I was greatly mistaken. At last I was over-
joyed in reaching another village, such as Washington
Irving had so frequently referred to in his travels
through Old England.

Here, while the churches were not as numerous as
its name might imply, the beauty and effect of the
surrounding country, with its mansions here and

280 Cherished Memories.

there, told the tale of its prosperity in language more
forcible than words could express.

To tarry long in this second "elysian dale" among a
people of English and Webh ancestry would have
been a pleasure except for my anxiety to reach home.
However, what I desired even more was to follow the
boundary separating my own home county from that
of Chester. Passing southward in search of the
''blazed'' trees of which mention had been made by the
historian Rupp, it wasn't long until I had reached
another hamlet, lying peacefully along the same line
of railway extending westward under the Lime street
bridge in Old Lancaster.

Before I could fully realize that I had entered Chris-
tiana, came the thought that it was near the strip of
wood-leave some distance north where a few years
previous I had delivered my oration entitled "Mount
Vernon, the Home of Washington," the effect of
which, I now felt satisfied, had left a deep, lasting im-
pression on the minds and hearts of the goodly Quakers,
residents of the villoge and surrounding country.

At the time of this, my second visit to the village,
fifty-one years ago, aside from the large brick hotel
which yet stands with the Fieles brothers as hosts
worthy of the name, there was but a sprinkling of
houses, with no macadam side-walks nor electric
lights. And yet we can well remember a time, even
before it became a borough, that Christiana was as
well and favorably known as any town of its size in
Pennsylvania. As a recent writer has said, "The name
of the town is associated with antebellum events

Christiana. 281

scarcely less known in political history than John
Brown's raid and the Harper's Ferry riot; for it was
in 1851 that the first blood was shed in the United
States in the resistance of the odious fugitive slave
law at or near the "long lane" leading from the State
or Valley road to the Noble road. Nearly sixty
years have gone by since Gorsuch, the Maryland slave
owner, was killed, his son badly wounded, with the
fugitive escaping to Canada. It's many a year since
we last saw the "Old Riot House," of which little now
remains to tell the story of those stirring times leading
up to the war of the Rebellion. Let then the old
stone house be rebuilt and dedicated to the cause for
which the good old Quakers stood in defense of their
sacred rights — ^freedom for those who entered her
soil.

For all-round story-tellers, the hamlet of Christiana
has, even down to the present day, but one equal, the
historian of the "Lower End," and who, imless we
forget, shall in noway escape the writer's pen. And
here, it may be said that space alone forbids mention
of an examination which took place in 1854, in the
village school, conducted by "Sam" and "William,"
their pupil being none other than an elderly merchant
who, in the hour of his adversity, had made applica-
tion for a certificate to "keep school." Ah! how many
times was my late friend "Ike" given to repeating it
after banking hours of more recent years, as we sat
on one of the long benches in front of the hotel! And,
oh, my! if these time-servers were only gifted with
the power of speech!

282 Cherished Memories.

But we must be moving on toward Paradise, stop-
ping only long enough at the old "Gap", from which
two diametrically opposite views strike the eye, the
one to the left depicting "Old Dame Nature" in all
her rugged wildness, that to the right, overlooking a
valley as rich in soil and landscape as are the dwellers
of Salisbury among the most prosperous of the "Old
Guard's" diversified other sects and nationalities,
whose ancestors long years before took out their land-
grants in this haven of peace and plenty.

Passing slowly along the turnpike toward Williams-
town, we stop for a moment to take in the propor-
tions of the Yeates homestead, passing, years later,
into possession of our friend Mr. Daniel Denlinger.
As a curio, we still hold as a souvenir one of the small
square tiles of the porch-floor, said to have been
brought from England at the time this residence was
erected.

Beyond, over the crest of the hill to the left, there
was no "Bleak House" for the young stroUer to rest
himself; nor, indeed, was the present owner, then a
lad, old enough to foresee that half a century later
he would be its genial host, at all times ready to wel-
come young and old, rich and poor, without price or
hope of future gain, to "Bleak House," standing as it
does in this year 1910, without a sign on its front-
door, bidding one and all thrice, doubly welcome to
the many good things always on "tap" for those who
might go straggling along looking for a square meal.
No! this outward display of welcome has at no time
during the past dozen years been necessary, for the

*

Schoolmaster Amos. 283

reason that it has long since been known as ''The
Traveler's Rest," in which all the many good things
are served in an over-abundance, whether to those
coming on foot, by train, trolley or by automobile.

Reaching Kinzers, a short mile west, we halt for a
moment to gather in a few " rat-tails" and " railroaders'
sandwiches," of which there are piles awaiting the
stopping of the trains, allowing employees as well as
passengers to indulge themselves in what had been
the custom since the first engine, the Black Hawk,
went its way from Colimibia to the incline plane in the
short space of eight and one half hours, a little more
than a score of years before.

Passing through Williamstown, where, on both sides
of the turnpike loomed up now as then, the many
delightful residences, at the time owned by the Eck-
erts, Slaymakers, Mcllvaines and other well-known
goodly Presbyterians', the mansion of the then Scott
Woods is reached standing to the right, amid a cluster
of oaks and other indigenous trees, awaiting the pen
of an Irving to compare it with an English homestead
of other days.

Wending our way through the covered bridge, we
glance o£F to the right at a little log house close by
Eshleman's miU, and wherein this same structure, for
several weeks, the Dutch schoolmaster from Muddy
Creek taught a class of yoimg men the more advanced
branches of learning. And what a splendid teacher
was "Amos!" Coming to Paradise at the age of fifty,
it was his daily precepts that have counted for so
much during more recent years. Where the master's

284 Cherished Memariee.

remains lie we know not; but we do know that he was
one of the many other educators who helped organize
the common school system.

''Back once more to dear old Paradise!'' methinks
I hear myself exclaim, as I enter the village refreshed \

by the pure Spring air, such as only a perfect April '

evening can bestow upon those who love to commune j

with "Old Dame Nature" in all her varied forms.
Stepping into the large brick store, after a "hand-
shdce" all aroimd, we pass by the Leidigh tannery,
thence close by the frame church on the hill, where
only a few years before it was my pleasure to assist
the organist in working the pedal which supplied the |

music for the choir. Being at all times ready to offer
a willing hand, to stand back of the organ and "pump,''
during a two-hour morning and evening service, j

gave poor me a standing as treasurer of the Sabbath I

school. At last, as the full moon came into view,
Fairview is reached. ^

CHAPTER XXIV.

Back Once More to Fairview — ^My First Bank

Account.

HERE in the large frame dwelling at Fairview, I
received a hearty welcome, returning as I did
with something to show in the shape of bank-notes,
which I wasn't slow in depositing in the Farmers'
Bank, at the county-seat, for safe keeping. What
interest I received, if any, didn't at the time concern
me so much as to know that it was safe and at my
disposal when needed.

Of this my first deposit, there is one thing I dis-
tinctly remember, among the notes were a dozen
silver dollars. As I wanted to preserve these, owing
to their age rather than to their intrinsic value, I asked
the cashier if I could get them back when wanted.
"The same ones?" came with a smile. "No, we
don't lay aside the same money, to be returned when
wanted; it goes into circulation." As it didn't take
me many seconds to see the force of his reasoning, I
carried the silver back, handing it over to my mother,
to be hidden away, possibly, in some old woolen
stocking.

Having passed my voting age, I was full of expedi-
ents — barring that of opening a chicken-ranch,
although, as I recall, I had captured at least one
specimen as a starter. Setting a trap, in the shape

285

286 Cherished Memories.

of a box for a squirrel, I started for my prey eariy the
next morning, and after drawing up the slide, to my
everlasting disgust, I had captured a rooster instead
of Mr. Squirrel.

And now, while I had never heard of the house at
Fairview being haunted, I had almost nightly evi-
dence that it was, as I lay awake listening to the
unearthly sawing that was going on under the eve
of the roof. As the township line ran through the
middle of my bed, I couldn't for the life of me tell
whether the imps belonged to Paradise or Strasburg.

Each morning as I came down stairs, after a night
of restless tossing and twisting, thinking of all the
things I had ever done amiss, my good mother would
ask me if I had become homesick to get back to the
Mengen homestead? Telling her at last of how I had
been haunted, night after night, she kindly consented
to sit by my bedside the night following, when, on
being awakened, I was told of the cause: the squirrels
had been making the inner cornice their winter quar-
ters, and the unearthly rasping that I had heard was
their nightly gnawing at their supply of nuts. Half
ashamed of myself, it is only a desire to be truthful
that leads me to make this little episode known — one
of many another for which there is always a cause.

During the weeks following, when not taking a hand
in the shop at my trade at all kinds of farming sup-
plies, I would pass at intervals to the borough of
Strasburg, thence back to Paradise. It wasn't long
until I discovered that the "villagers" had turned to
discussing, instead of abstract questions, such as

Bole MiUer. 287

pre-ordination and fore-ordination, they were engaged
in those more weighty, such as the signs of the times
had indicated were sure to follow in the near future.
Later, when Lincoln was nominated by the Republicans
for president, all other topics except those relating to
his election were lost sight of in the maelstrom which
everywhere prevailed. Men who the year previous
had been bosom friends had now become irrecon-
cilably divided. And no longer was the Paradise
Literary Society given up to discussing the common-
place affairs of years previous. The two most strenu-
ous opponents in times of peace. Dr. Strawn and Dr.
Gibbons, had become the bitterest of partisans, in
the pouring out of their invectives of sarcasm on the
heads of their dissenters. Nor indeed was this diver-
sity of expression confined to literary debate. With
the fire of discord kindled, it needed only a Bole
Miller, the "pump-maker," to start it into a flame.
With his vocabulary of unmentionable adjectives,
always at his tongue's end, and fists ready for an
all-round fight, it was "Bole" who kept the political
caldron usually at the boiling-point in any crowd in
which he might find himself. Known far and wide
as kindly disposed toward a friend, yet, when the
question of the freeing of the slaves came up for dis-
cussion, he would rave himself into a frenzy, forgetful
of friendships. Passing away at a ripe old age, he
never relented in his abuse of all abolitionists.

With the machine business showing signs of going
into liquidation, to fall back on another term in the
school-room became a matter of self-preservation.

288 Cherished Memories.

Hastening to the Black Horse Hotel, I entered the
class, receiving my third certificate from the superin-
tendent, the late David Evans, which entitled the
bearer forever after to teach in any of the schools of
the county without further undergoing examination.

To describe the exact location of the Cedar Hill
school house, as it stood a mile directly west of the
Wharton Smelting Works, with its tall chimney,
would be as difficult as to locate the homes of the
dwellers scattered here and there over a wide range
of hiUy country. Judging from the youngsters who
attended the school, the parents were of nearly every
known nationality, the larger number being em-
ployees of the Nickel Mines, at the time in full opera-
tion, a mile south of the smelting works. In noting
the contrast between this section and that only a little
more than a dozen miles north, among all the pupils
there wasn't one who could speak the Dutch vocabu-
lary. Where or at what point this line of demarca-
tion began and ended has never been clearly defined.
In the valley a mile or two beyond the hills north-
ward, the German was, to some extent, spoken. But
after reaching the "ridge" was a population as entirely
different in their customs, habits and traditions as
could be found anywhere in the country.

And now to the school which stood facing the lonely
road leading from the toll-gate, where a murder was
committed years later, southward almost midway
between said point and Georgetown. To the north of
this stone structure a few hundred yards distant,
stood a lone, single dwelling and beside it a cooper-

Life in the '' HiUs.'' 289

shop. Back of the school, in a hollow, about the
same distance, almost hidden from view, was a small
log house in which five of my yoimger years were
spent. And here, as I sit, fifty years later, in my
cozy home in the city of Lancaster, with fingers on
the keys of the typewriter, I am lost in reverie as I
recaU my first night in this low-down home of the
"wood-chopper," John Nebon, and his good wife,
whose kindness can never be forgotten. They were
hillians, with a growing family of boys and girls, and
yet in their way, everything was done to make life
worth the living for one who hadn't as yet tasted of
the bitter and sweets of city-life for the second time.

In an upper room, directly beneath the rafters and
shingles, stood the high-post bedstead, covered with
the finest of spread. And many were the nights,
after retiring early, that I could see the stars shining
in upon my face through the crevices of the shingles.
Ah, but the cooking of "Mammy" Nelson, her chicken,
waffles and flannel cakes! Yes, then I knew how to
get away with a good meal at the low price of six
cents, against which, at the close of each month, no
exception was taken to my own book-keeping by the
big-hearted wood-chopper, long since passed to his
silent rest.

To be lost in the wilds of the woods, oftentimes
within a few miles of home, is nothing unusual, recall-
ing as it does how, on one occasion, I went my way
aimlessly through the brush, with only the plaintive
ring of a cow's bell, and the soaring of a buzzard
overhead. On, on I pressed my way, and as I strolled
19

290 Cherished Metnories.

I was overcome with a feeling of such perfect content-
ment as to drive all other thoughts from my mind,
except a longing desire to remain in the quietude of
the solitude in communion with ''Old Dame Nature/'
in all her virgin sublimity. Yes, yes, I had reached
God's country where the woodman's axe had scarcely
left its impress.

Passing from under a canopy of laurel, I beheld a
woman; yes, a lone colored woman, standing in the
doorway of a ramshackle of an apology for a dwelling.
Startled for the moment by the strange presentiment,
I was f luther confronted by a half dozen sleepy-looking
curs with outstretched necks, as if to inquire the
purpose of a stranger's interfering so unceremoniously
with their between-hour naps. Unlike Bowser, the
defender of the Mengen homestead, fed on the fat of
the land, these blind-eyed canines, with long-pointed
noses, ready to be prying into everybody's business,
came sniffing and wagging their tails as if created for
no other purpose than to keep the hillians on the
verge of starvation. For, as a rule, these yelping
hoimds are most numerous where poverty is most
evident.

Approaching the gate, and before I could inquire
whither I was going, I was met by this same colored
denizen, who, stepping forward and shoving a six-
months-old infant into my arms, exclaimed, ''Lawd,
boss, so ye be de docto' come at las' wid a dose ub
soothin' syrup fo' poor leetle Nanny, who's got de
hoopin'-cough an' is all fallin' 'way."

''For heaven's sake, woman, I am no doctor; take

A Darkey Homestead. 291

your baby; yes, take it (thrusting the poor, dejected
foundling back into her anns). No, no, I am a
stranger in these parts looking for a way out of this
tangled-web of darkest Africa. And now, my good
woman, if a few stray coppers will serve you, take
them to buy all the soothing syrup you may need for
a fortnight."

"Gawd, boss, I took ye fur de docto'. An' he not
come to gibe des chile a dose ub soothin' syrup?''
Then, in a loud, screeching tone, "Des way, Toby,
Larry, Bessie, Pauline, Obediah, Mosel An' why
don't ye be hurryin' long to be showin' de strangah
de way to de tabem where he kin be gittin' a square
meal ub herrin', salt shad an' drink ub appel-jack; fur
der good Man 'bove knows we got nuthin' to be
temptin' der strangah's ap'tite."

"Are all these your own?" came my inquiry, as
from nowhere and everywhere came a troup of half-
clad yoimgsters, in bare feet, bright-eyed, ruddy
lu'chins, the eldest not being over fifteen.

" Y-a-s, boss, six ub dem am owned by Pete an' me,
de udder, mid marks on her face am our 'dopted chile,
jis' gittin' ober de scarlet feber. An' mebbe ye know
Pete who am ober in de brush cuttin' poles to keep
de mines from fallin' in."

"No, no, I've never met the head of the home.
But are you happy in this lonely, out-of-the-way
place?" moving out of reaching distance of the con-
valescent.

"An' why shouldn't weuns be? Dat be Pete an'
me wid all dese lubbin' ones roun' de house singin'

292 Cherished Memories.

momin', noon an ebenin', wid a horse, cow an' three
shoats, wid de boodles keepin' watch ober de farm
scarin' off de fellows comin' roun' swipin' de stock
durin' de dark ub de moon."

"And what do you live on, woman?" casting a few
more cents among the troup of woolly heads scramb-
ling 'round with open mouths and gaping eyes.

"De bes' we kin git. Ye see, de cow gibe de milk,
costin' nuthin' fur de keepin' durin' simmier; same
wid de pigs, which go rootin' 'roun' de hillsides till
killin'-time. Ub 'cose, we ain't libbin' like we useter
was. But wait, boss, till de big, roun' yallow pump-
kins be ripenin' out in de cornfields 'mong de rich farm-
•ers ub de valley. Yis, me darlin's," turning to them,
huddled 'round her skirts, "ye tink ye are tastin' de
pumpkin' pies, but ye ain't doin' nuffin' ub de kind,
so ye aint, me honneys."

"And now, boss," handing the poor, distressed
shadow of a babe over to Pauline, "eber hea' my Pete
preach ober in de colored meetin' house? No? Well,
my man am de whole show when he come to 'dres de
followers ub de faith. Durin' fust hour he stick closer
to de subjec' ub his text 'an do de rich farmers ober
in de lowlands to der purse-strings."

Growing more and more pleased over the attention
she was receiving, she continued, " Den Pete he spread
hisself ober de pulpit, throw open his coat, back his
shoulders, an' 'way he go puffin like a stem ingine up
grade, nebber stoppin' to take secon' wind until he
hab gone clear thru der Scripture from Gen'sis to
Reb'lations. Den, boss, arter reachin' de end ub de

Colored Parson's Pittance. 293

Holy Book, he come back on de homeward stretch,
repeatin' word fur word. Den 'bout de time he git
ready fur de wind-up, he diskiver he miss a chapter
or two in de line ub his march. So, to be findin' de
place ub de missin chapter, be like findin' a cow
ober in de brush widout her bell. Betimes, ub cose,
he kin lay his finger on de tribe ub de children ub
Israel wadin' clea' thru de Red Sea. At udder time
he say, 'Sleep 'way, breddem an sisters, till de parson
know where he am at. Den, boss, ye should see my
man Pete wakenin' up de whole cong'ration. Fust
one, den de udder raise his woolly head wipin' his
eyes to make believe he be repentin' ub his sins; but
dat am only de colored pusson's make believe in hood-
winkin' my man Pete; fur wen de collection come to
be taken, dare stan' de two colored deacons wid dare
hands jammed deep down in der own trousers' pock-
ets holdin' on to de Lord's money jis as if dey be sus-
pectin' my man Pete be slippin' his own hands in dere
breeches' pockets, swipin' der hard cash, while de
cong'ration be snoozin' way waitin' fur de rector to be
pronouncin der ben'diction."

" Well, well, I hope the collection was in proportion
to the length of the sermon — "

''Lawd, boss, wen de parson look into dem basket,
he jis lean his woolly head ober de pulpit an' say,
'Breddem an' sistem, as we hab only taken in nine
cents to night, ye'U habe to be hurryin' out, fur we
can't 'ford to keep de lights bumin'.'

"And bless one who is a stranger in these parts,
how does the parson manage to exist on such a
measly pittance?'!

294 Cherished Memories.

"Dere be perquisites, betime, boss, bless ye. See,
de two deacons, da' come 'roun' de cabin durin' de
dark ub de moon wid a load ub chicken, duck, turkey-
hen an' gobbler fur de parson's Thanksgivin' repas',
an' who aint busyin' hisself 'bout other peoples' 'fairs.
Ye see, boss, it am a rule ub de members ub de par-
son's flock not to be askin' too many questions, cept
de be on script'ral subjects."

Of all the object lessons I had ever received, this
was the most convincing, proving beyond question
that contentment after all was largely a relative
quantity, not to be measured by the standard of the
dwellers of this or that section of country.

It was at a somewhat later date that business called
the writer to other stone or frame dwellings, located
here and there along and over the "Ridge," extend-
ing almost from the rugged hills of the Octoraro to
the Susquehanna, around the doors of which were
scampering an equal number of white tots, seemingly
as happy in their rambles as had been the parson's
colored family of youngsters, at peace with all the
world embraced within their narrow vision.

Many, indeed, were the times I had fallen in upon
little patches of the open, cultivated by the hardy
hand of toil, small farmers who were getting possibly
as much out of their small holdings, in proportion to
the money invested, as were the rich husbandmen of
the valleys out of their own fertile acres.

Stopping at thb or that dwelling to break "bread,"
I was soon to learn that these sturdy settlers were not
of German, Welsh or Huguenot ancestry, but a race

The Church in the Hills. 295

of bone and sinew, of Scotch-Irish parentage — ^the
advance guard of a still higher type of toilers residing
further to the south.

Confirming in a measure Menno Mengen's stories of
how the Scotch-Irish had missed their golden oppor-
timity in overlooking the best of God's country for
the scrub-oaky chestnut and laurel, I was not a little
surprised, on a certain later occasion, to learn from
a raw-boned driver of an ox-team that, with all his
hardships, no inducements could be offered in ex-
change for his own possessions, for the best the Ger-
mans of the "up" country had to offer. If the soil,
as he argued, was not as productive in its yield, the
very atmosphere the people breathed brought com-
pensation not to be measured by the number of
bushels per acre.

Here among this class of hardy toilers, if much of
the soil had never felt the roll of the reaper's wheels,
there was yet sufficient to eat and drink, with enough
of the where-with-all to clothe the body, besides the
school and meeting house, wherein all stood on perfect
equality. If, then, for a time the small church edifice
had escaped my eye, hidden, as at times it was, in the
density of foliage, one Sabbath was sufficient. With
it's being ushered in, came from hidden byways the
worshipers, some a-foot, others in traps of all kinds,
recalling vividly to mind those I had seen at Menno
Zimros' sale of blooded stock.

Mingling with a few of the more intelligent as they
stood under the shade of a monster chestnut, I was
not a little surprised to find them discussing, not the

296 Cherished Memories.

spiritual, but the secular affairs of the day, in which
self-interest seemed to be the first law of nature.
Recalling Brindle, the Aldemey, which Menno Mengen
had sold to Justice Dugan as a "free milker," I wasn't
long in catching on to how Quaker Reubens had, in
an underhanded way, inveigled his neighbor Lundy
into the purchase of a balky mule. In still another
group stood the irrepressible Dunlavy, pouring hot
coals on the defenseless head of Sylvester Coning for
having pulled the wool over his eyes in a land dicker.

For a time, these acromonious discussions went on
until one after the other stepped within this humble
temple, with its straight-back benches. Back of the
pulpit, on which rested a time-worn Bible, sat the
minister, with a smile on his wrinkled features. But
when he 'rose, with outstretched arms, in deep, earnest
prayer, I was compelled to bow the head, if not from
a sense of deep himiiUty, at least in conformity with
the customs of this God-fearing people, whose an-
cestors, long years before, had dedicated their lives
to the soil of the hilly ridges.

But to the lasting impression left upon my mind
by the goodly parson's discourse; it was not as I had
been led to imagine, the blaming of Providence for
the unequal distribution of Nature's stores of worldly
goods. Directly the reverse: words of thanksgiving
rang through the assembly to the Giver for all the
many blessings which had yearly come to the just
and unjust.

Apart, however, from this delicate question of re-
ligious creeds, what is it that gives to the ''hills" this

Contented and Hospitable, 297

perfect contentment, on the one hand, and seeming
want on the other? Is it to be found in the old man
sitting astride a mule with cob-pipe, as away along
the road he goes, with shaggy beard and trousers
patched for the hundredth time with as many kinds
of remnants as a country store could well afford to
keep on sale? If it be not his clothes, which hang
loosely 'round his lank form, built for work, what
can be the cause as you see him draw up, with a happy,
go-as-you-please, "Mighty fine momin', stranger, an'
how goes the world with ye?" And as you glance
into his face, with a feeling of commiseration for his
fallen lot, he will tell you he lives in the most pro-
ductive country in the world; the best wooded, the
best watered, and the healthiest. Start him to talking,
as he sits with legs thrown over offside of the saddle,
drawing away at his pipe, and he will tell you he
owns a horse, cow, some shoats and a snug little home
of a few acres, with no fever ague within a dozen
miles of his home.

Should he grow a little confidential over his glass of
toddy at a way-side inn, he will acquaint you with
his domestic life, of how he came to marry Maria Jane
he intends taking over to campmeeting in her best
Sunday 'fixins after sellin' enough o' his farm pro-
ducts to be buyin' a dozen yards o' calico to be makin'
th' young ones look spry like.

To cap the climax, he will invite you to spend the
night in his cabin-home. Getting there, you will see
at the front door a plain little house-wife, with her
brood of little ones clinging to her skirts awaiting one

298 Cherished Memories.

who, she whispers, has come to spend the night with
dad.

Passing into the small sitting-room, with its two
windows and low ceiling, you glance at the plain deco-
rations, with organ in one comer, wondering what
kind of a meal is to be forthcoming, maybe, salt herring
or ''brodewarsht." Ah! but a moment later, you
hear the voices of the little ones as they go chasing a
young pullet, which, captured, is soon frizzing on the
improvised stove, as Maria Jane busies herself with
the setting of the table. And such appetites! Well
may you, if stranger you be, bow the head in the
presence of this unselfish hospitality!

As you sit bending forward, you're asked to offer a
blessing. This over, you begin to realize, if never
before, that if peace and plenty reigned supreme
among the "Dutch" of the "up" country, true, im-
mixed happiness is the lot of the "hillians." Pass
from the table to the sitting-room and perchance you
will find before the organ a girl of sixteen playing and
singing some few tunes she had learned by note.

Later, as you sit out on the porch during the even-
ing twilight, this same little Maggie will stand by your
side, with sparkling eyes, only too ready to listen to
such stories you may have to relate; for in this
sixteen-year-old girl rest the hopes of the family.
If you are kindly disposed, you will enter into her
mother's thoughts and emotions. Her highest ambi-
tion is to make something more out of Maggie than to
remain a waif in the small cabin home. And oh!
how the young girl's heart beats with rapture as you

Not Uncivilized. 299

suggest that possibly she might become a teacher of
a hill school!

Is this picture overdrawn? Let those who have
never fallen in with the hillians follow the westward
strata of woodleave from the Octoraro to the Susque-
hanna and they will find a civilization the equal to
that of the long stretches of country handed down
by the early Mennonites to their children as a legacy.
And now to continue the reveries.

CHAPTER XXV.

Nomination op Abraham Lincoln — "Wide

Awakes."

DURING the early fall of my first tenn in the
Cedar Hill school, my evenings were mostly
given to attending the many political meetings follow-
ing the nomination of Abraham Lincoln, the Rail-
splitter. To join a Club of " Wide- A wakes, " with cap,
cape and torch had become the heighth of my ambi-
tion, as at the close of school I would hie myself off
to join the ranks of the "bo3rs" in parade and speech-
making. And so, with only the slightest conception
of the issues involved, I was at times called upon to
follow some young city attorney, in the delivery of
his first speech. And as I stood listening to the ap-
plause which followed, how I wished I had become a
student-at-law instead of a plain, common school
teacher.

As it happened, I was hoisted on the porch of the
Williamstown hotel on the evening preceding the elec-
tion, and there predicted with out-stretched arms, in
a voice that sent the echoes ringing, the election of
Abraham Lincoln. Not to refer to the applause which
followed this announcement, it was on the morning
following I hurried to the post office at Bellmont for
the "Philadelphia Press" to which I had become a
three-months' subscriber. After reading "Occasion-

300

Thaddeas Stevens. 301

al's" letter, the author of which was the late John W.
Forney, I naturally began to scan the paper for some
account of the speech I had delivered, predicting the
election of the great Lincoln. But look where I might,
I was doomed to disappointment. No, not a word, not
a line. Of course, of course, here and there were
short paragraphs of speeches delivered by the young
attorneys whose expenses had been paid by the
Republican County Committee, and who for all I knew
to the contrary, had sent extracts of their own speeches
to the "Press."

Making my laments known to Mr. John Keneagy, he
kindly consented to have me join him in a visit to the
Hon. Thaddeus Stevens, Member of Congress, who,
he felt sure would recognize my ability as a prognos-
ticator of coming events by securing the young teacher-
speaker, a clerkship at Washington.

Stepping into his oflBce on South Queen Street, I was
introduced as a promising young man who had worn
the "cap" and "cape" at the numerous political
meetings, all of which entitled me, as he put it, to Mr.
Stevens' most earnest consideration.

In this enchanted state, with the clerkship almost
within my embrace, he glanced me over with his critical
eye and said, in his blunt way, "Young man, what are
you doing?" After receiving the reply that I was
teaching only a common school, he abruptly turned,
and after sending a chill down my spinal column by
his looks, exclaimed, "Go back to the school-room,
where you have your future in your own hands, to be
making out of yourself something more than a mere

302 Cherished Memories.

clerk, reaching old age with little or nothing to pro-
vide for a rainy day." With this we left him.

During the summer of '65, after spending eleven
years as mechanic, farmer and teacher, I reached Lan-
caster on the very day the much-lamented Lincoln
was assassinated, entering the Recorder's Office.
Later, on the first of September, I entered the South
Duke street school as teacher, where I remained
until '68. And here little need be said of what is only
too well known to the scores of men, once boys,
whether for good or evil. If for evil, the hope is it
may have long since been forgotten. And yet as my
thoughts drift back to those halcyon days on the.
''hill," I would be less than human to remain forgetful
of how often since I've been met on the streets with
"Why, old man, don't you remember me, one of the
boys you 'licked' for doing just nothing but running
away at recess without permission, in attending a
circus!"

Apart from these pleasing reminders, it was after
leaving the Duke street school, to get even with some
of the legal lights whom I had met at Williamstown,
I started to reading Blackstone with my devoted
friend, the late Abram Shank. But I wasn't long in
learning that the law was a jealous mistress, requiring
more time than I felt I could afford to give to the law
as a profession.

What led to my entering a well-known book firm
as their representative is no way important to the
public. It was at the close of my first year as teacher
in '66, however, that I started a-foot for Quarryville,

Dovm to the ''Lower End.'' 303

in the township of Eden, where an examination was
billed to take place the day following; with carpet-
bag well filled with an assortment of every kind of
text-books, not forgetting a few of the miscellaneous
kind for the directors' children, whose mothers always
had a good word to say to their director-husbands at,
on or before the time of the meeting of the school
board. As to the question of "graft" entering into
what was to please the little tots — ^this may be dis-
missed from the reader's mind as incompatible with
the teachers' profession.

If anything additional may be said, it is that busi-
ness was at all times a first consideration, and I have
never known a time since my first entrance upon
country life, in 1854, that I wasn't ready to pick up a
few "gems," needing only the hand of the literary
lapidary to polish and perfect. Aside from a morning
simrise or an evening sunset, every old building, mill
or furnace was sure to attract my attention. Then,
I had an inordinate desire to visit the "Lower End,"
if for no other purpose, apart from business, than to
find out what kind of "celestials" were living in this
"garden of Eden." To visit "Providence," not far
removed, and for all I knew, nearer the heavenly gates
to the "New Jerusalem" — ^this place I could afford
to wait my time and pleasure, and where yet resides
our good friend. Dr. Helm, and where his venerable
father ended his days in peace and plenty.

Passing along the Willow Street Pike, the same
forty years ago as to-day, I switched myself off at the
second toll-gate to that of the Beaver Valley. Turn-

304 Cherished Memories.

ing to the right at the first lane, it wasn't long until I
had reached what for nearly a century and a half had
been known as the location of Lancaster county's
first German Mennonite settlers in 1710.

Overcome with a feeling of intense curiosity, as my
eyes resting on a sandstone cabin, and as I took in
"C. H. H. R.— 1719," what less could I do but to
enter its bleak walls, reminded as I was of the story
told by Grandmother Mengen little more than half a
decade before, of the Mengen stone cabin.

And now, nearly half a century later, anything of
interest that I might have to relate of my first visit
to the Hans Herr cabin, which has already assumed
historic importance by the erection of the "tablet"
on the soil of the Mennonite meeting-house, located
at no great distance from this stone home, long since
fallen into disuse as a dwelling, has already gone down
on history's pages.

However, the change which four-score or more years
have brought in awakening public sentiment, especi-
ally on the part of the Lancaster County Historical
Society, is only another indication pointing in the
direction of preserving, by suitable monuments, the
many landmarks made memorable by the deeds of
those who were active in our country's welfare nearly
two centuries ago.

While this slight tribute to the valor and sturdy
character of the first settlers of this, the central part
of our county, where others known as the Dutch also
took up their homes in a wilderness, a continuation
of my first trip to the "Lower End," among the

Church Objects to Gorgeous Building. 305

dwellers of the Scotch-Irish and Quakers will be re-
sumed; with the thought always uppermost in mind,
of impressions made upon memory's tablet at the
time — ^forty-j&ve years ago.

Leaving the Herr stone cabin, with its pictures at
present on sale in the various stores, I hadn't gone far
when, to my astonishment, my vision took in a pre-
tentious two-story stone dwelling with mansard roof,
with its six windows of sixteen panes each. To the
left, above the porch, was the date, 1740, and to the
right, 1823, recalling vividly to mind a picture of this
same cosy home building I had seen in Rupp's history
of the county years before.

Stopping to further view the exterior of what so
many years earlier was called ** palace of sandstone,
one of the most stately mansions in the county," I
was met by an elderly personage who, stepping to the
door, seemed only too willing to gratify his curiosity
by asking where I was from and whither I was going.

"It was in 1842," he began his story, "that the
Bishop, Hans Tschantz, with his elders and assistants,
having repaired to the humble cottage hard by the
'stately mansion/ organized the meeting himself,
in which the owner was questioned, upon conscience,
to openly declare what his intentions were in erecting
so large, so gorgeous a dwelling — reminding him of
the rumor some twelve or thirteen years before; and
lately of the prejudice existing against the Germans.
And his reply, 'That he was consulting only his own
comfort, and that he had no sinister views.' Next
he was reminded that, in their view, the house was

306 Cherished Memories.

too showy for a Mennonite. After some concessionB^
and mutual forbearance by the parties, it was resolved
that the owner be kindly reprimanded; to which he
submitted, all parting as brethren."

And now, three decades later, on glancing for
miles around at the numerous other stately dwellings
looming into prominence, the majority of which are
not only more extensive in their outward design of
architecture than any I had seen in the '*up" country,
leads to the conviction that the descendants — Men-
nonites — are throwing off the old and putting on the
new. For, look where I would, stood not only the
double-decker, painted in variegated colors, with
their spires ghstening in the bright sunlight, but their
brick homes were even more deUghtful to look upon;
some with lawns surrounded by hedges, others with
little garden plots in which grew flowers of every
variety, interspersed with the greenest spruce.

Crossing the "Little Beaver," with the foot-hills
looming in the distance, I was forcibly reminded that
possibly these same ridges were but a continuation
of those far-off to the left, and over which I had gone
my way while teaching the district school known as
''Cedar Hill."

Glancing backward from this higher altitude, at the
rolling landscape, over this garden of nature's handi-
craft, as I entered the ridges of shale and mica, I
couldn't well help recalling what I had so often heard,
that a change of soil usually brought a change in the
customs and habits of the people, all of whom I was
BOW only too anxious to meet imless, perchance, as I

QuarryviUe. 307

pressed my way further beyond the hilly ranges, I
should be compelled to met so few in number as to
make my trip of no avail. Where I had actually
crossed another line of demarcation, at least physically
speaking, with the valley of limestone gradually re-
ceding, was as perplexing as it was annoying. How-
ever, after taking one road, only to intersect with
another leading to nowhere, with a stray buzzard
soaring overhead, and a jack-rabbit crossing the road-
way, I, at long last, stood viewing the village off in
the distance. "Yes, yes,*' came my soliloquy, ' I have
reached QuarryviUe, in the 'Garden of Eden,'" pic-
tured so many years before to my immature mind
by the Sabbath-day teacher in one of our Bible lessons.

Stepping, with grapsack in hand, I entered the
tavern, and after making diligent inquiry as to the
secretary of the school board, I went my way in
search of the "comer store," standing some distance
westward, at the intersection of two roads. Wonder-
fully strange how one name can be associated with that
of another, in the awaking of a guilty conscience at a
moment when one's hopes are at a premium! For,
as I kept revolving the secretary's name over and over,
it seemed to carry me back to my own home-town, to
a cherry tree on East Chestnut, and from which I,
with others, reaped a rich harvest when old "Pappy"
Hensel was quietly sleeping the sleep of the just.

With these vain imaginings, I bolted my way into
the general merchandise store to find standing behind
the counter a man of middle age, with countenance of
marked resoluteness of piupose, and yet withal one

308 Cherished Memories.

from whom I received a most cordial greeting. After
showing up my "wares," with the assurance that I
should receive his support at the coming meeting, I
was directed to the president, one of three Scotch-Irish
brothers, who dwelt a short distance beyond, on adja-
cent farms. Singularly strange, as I went my way,
full of bright anticipations, I had forgotten all about
the delicious "ox-hearts," so surreptitiously taken
from the cherry tree, which few boys could pass with-
out casting sly glances up among the luscious fruit.

Circling around like one of the lost tribes of the
children of Israel, I at last reached Robert's farm,
where sat lounging on the porch three stalwart farm-
ers, whose appearance satisfied the agent that they
were not only well-to-do, but of the old school as well.
For a moment, with gripsack in hand, I stood glancing
furtively through the foliage, wondering if here I
should receive as kindly a welcome as had been
accorded by the secretary, ever ready, as I was to
learn later, to assist a young man in time of need.

Hesitating, to take in the artistic proportions of the
buildings, the first of their size I had seen since leaving
the valley of the Conestoga and Pequea, I overheard
what could have reference only to myself and lone
gripsack.

"Say, brother J-eems, I'll be scotched if there isn't
another of them infernal oil-agents coming 'round,
and a smart-looking chap at that; suppose he's here
with another wild-cat scheme to unload on the old
man, and before he's had time to forget the parting
with his last hard-earned dollars. Guess, though,

. •

The Montgomery Boys. 309

we'll have to be inviting him in for dinner as the
shortest way of getting rid of the broker."

"Yis, Robert, it's your brother James who's think-
ing it's 'bout time for you to be considering the con-
sequences before risking any more of the products of
the farm in oil-well stocks."

At last, approaching the porch with grip dangling
by my side, I was saluted with, "Wa-U, yoimg man,
from what neck o' woods do you hail, and what might
your business be, if not too inquisitive.?"

"A school-book agent with a supply of recently-
published text-books to be taking the place of old
Peter Parley's geography, Smith's grammar and
Pike's arithmetics," I retorted, regaining my com-
posure.

''Thought you were one of those slick promoters
with an axe to grind at the old men's expense. And
so you're from the city?"

"Yes, at one time a teacher, boarding for eight
months with Menno Mengen, Mennonite farmer, re-
siding along the King's highway; and whose opinion
of the Scotch-Irish and Quakers hasn't at all times
been the most flattering."

"Wa-U," ejring his visitor over the top of his
glasses, "how are the 'Dutch' getting along, anyway,
on their sourkraut, paunhaus, speck and scrapple?
You see," rising from his chair, "between the Dutch
on the north and Billy Penn's descendants on the
south, I'm not searching the spelling-book for any
choice words of flattery, dang 'em I Yes, yes, the
one's on a par with the other; both have robbed the

310 Cherished Memories.

Scotch Irish out of their natural rights in gobbling up
most of the best farm land in the county. But, yoimg
man, open up your grip, and if you've anything in
the books to be teaching the young how to avoid the
speculators, you can count on Robert's vote, provid-
ing you can convince the secretary, living over in a
part of the comer store, with three smart young lads
running 'round."

What followed this hour's interview with Robert,
the tall, rugged farmer, can easily be stated: A day
or two later I succeeded in supplanting a line of text-
books that had been in use in the schools of the town-
ship since the system was first adopted.

At the time of which mention is made, Quarryville
was an unpretentious country village, from which., to
reach the county-seat, the rickety stage coach had to
be resorted to. Then again, during the winter, many
of the highways were almost impassable, owing to
their being used for the hauling of oar and limestone
from the immense quarries, still in evidence on the
verge of the town.

But mark the change after a short half century.
This pleasant retreat is now a borough with its trolley
and two lines of railroad-^the one leading to the city,
the narrow-guage to Oxford and the Susquehanna.
Aside from its two banks and stores, with electric lights,
the town has put on a new aspect, especially since the
''low-grade" railway keeps nmning hourly east and
west.

CHAPTER XXVI.

Letter to Menno Menqen — Farming Conditions
OP Two Sections Contrasted.

IT was during one of my much later visits to the
"Lower End," and where I had come in closer
touch with the soil and its people, as I had previously
with the dwellers of the "up" country, that it occurred
to the writer to drop a letter to Mengen and his "goot"
Nancy, almost forgetful that after these many years
both had either passed the River of Time or had
reached that of the prophet's age. However, as dili-
dence, industry and proper improvement of time
are material duties of the young, how better could I
obey Mengen's admonition than by the fulfilling of
a promise made years before. If , as I further reas-
oned, the old people were no longer on the homestead,
there would at least be the grandsons and the once
thirteen-year-old Beckie, only too ready to receive
a line from their teacher of the "Grove" school.

And so, not without some knowledge of conditions
prevailing in this southern Eden, I betook myself to
the hotel, at the extreme eastern part of the village
of Quarryville, to begin the labor of contrasting, for
Mengen's sake, conditions as they existed, altogether
so different, in this extreme lower end, from those of
the "up" country.

"Dear Mengen: Time has passed so rapidly since

311

312 Cherished Memories.

we last sat together on the porch of the homestead,
as to cause me to chide myself for having delayed writ-
ing you and Nancy for so long a time. Recalling one
of the headlines I used to pen for the bojrs in their
copy-books, that 'Procrastination is the thief of
time/ I fear I have been practicing what I've attempt-
ed to teach others, to avoid putting oflf for tomorrow
what ought to be done to-day.

''And now let me say in as plain language as
possible, that if, when I left the farm, I had im-
agined I was nevermore to find another the size of
your own double-decker, I must confess I was greatly
mistaken. Here and there in the valley of the Con-
estoga and Pequea, it was my pleasure to find bams
of immense size, filled with an overabundance of all
that should unite a people in the common bonds of
fraternal good feeling and lasting friendships. This
discovery, before reaching the foot-hills, led to the
conviction that, however the German Mennonites
might differ on minor points, their hearts are still in
the right place.

"With so much to write that couldn't be read in a
single night, I can only refer to the more important:
As an historical beginning, out of the sixty odd town-
ships and boroughs of this glorious old county, I have
broken 'bread' with all sects and religious denomina-
tions, and seldom have I had cause to complain of
their hospitality. If then it was my pleasure to go
driving to a Dutch country sale, where the idiom was
as pronoimced as were the dwellers in their peculiar
garb, with their broad-brim, black felt hats, how

u

Dutch Discriminated Against, 313

altogether diflferent the people of this lower section
of God's country, where the plain English prevails,
almost to the exclusion of the German.

"This may be accounted for largely for the reason
that both the Scotch and Quakers are of different
nationalities, the 'Friends' from England, the Scotch
from Scotland and the north of Ireland, settling them-
selves down where it didn't require the labor of re-
moving the heavy timber of the low-lands further
north.

"However, as all my information comes from the
historian of the 'Buck,' and others, it must suffice.
And yet, singular as it may seem, it was only after
reaching the foot-hills, south of which only a few Men-
nonites have ever ventured, that the change became
strikingly apparent. Occasionally, it is true, here
and there a Dutch farmer was to be met, who, having
sold out his belongings at a good, round figure, went
his way southward, where farms could be had at
nearly one-half the price of farm land in the valleys
Ijdng further north. However, as I was to learn,
between his neighbors and himself and family there
was Uttle in common; not that they were not respected
as hard-working, industrious farmers. And yet, from
a social standpoint, they were largely discriminated
against on account of their illiteracy, style of dress,
and may be, their religious customs. Therefore, to
fully appreciate the conditions which time alone can
modify, you must remember that I have fallen in with
the Scotch-Irish and Quakers, believers in the adage

314 Cherished Memories.

ihsi they alone are the survival of the fittest, what-
ever this may mean. If then it was my good fortune,
in this 'valley of the gods/ to min^e with all classes —
descendants of the Scots and Penns — ^I have found
them little different from the common run of mortals,
with the possible exception of the Quakers, who raise
tobacco, not by any means for home consumption,
but rather for trade, commerce and dieing purposes.
Opposed to its use in any form as a soothing bakn for
nervous diseases, these God-fearing farmers' wives
stand at all times ready to uphold their end of an
argument, the question of consistency being in noway
a 'jewel.' Happily for your young friend, in abstain-
ing from the 'weed' in their presence, I have avoided
many a little moral lesson, reserved alone for their
husbands, who usually manage to take their after-
dinner smoke at a comer store, where an antidote
can be had warranted to deceive the average house-
wife, without being subjected to the 'moral code' on
their return home.

"In many other respects I have not been slow in
observing the same prevailing conditions among the
people hereabouts as elsewhere in my travels — a
growing tendency to encourage their offspring to
abandon the farm — ^the greater the facilities for seek-
ing an education, the less binding the home-ties. More
than once have I sat and listened to mistaken notions
of 'child culture,' wherein it was set forth that the lad
of brains should in noway be allowed to follow the
drudgery of a farmer's life, with so many other posi-
tions of trust awaiting them in the cities. And as for

More Note-Books Required. 315

their daughters — ^the pretty girls, to many them oflf
to 'professionals' of influence where they might em-
bellish a city home, if not the rule, is by no means the
exception among the more enlightened and prosperous
— a prosperity largely the result of long years of patient
toil on homesteads not to be excelled the county over
for peace, comfort and a long, happy life for those
who hold fast to the handles of a plow.

"And now, if, unhappily, your schoolmaster-friend
has gone astray in many of his deductions, they may
be attributed largely to the many inimitable young
'story-tellers' of the village, whose reputation as
local historians stand as par excellence among the
rank and file of dwellers of this lower section of the
coimty.

"Known far and near as familiar with every old
land-mark, from that of Fulton's historic birth-place
to David Ramsay's, the fund of information furnished
has required an additional number of note-books.

"What greater pleasure than to have pointed out
this or that old stone dwelling with a history dat-
ing back to the Crusaders I And later, to sit on the
porch of the self-opinionated Quaker Reubens, en-
gaged in a spirited discussion with his neighbor, the
irascible James McLadin, only to agree to disagree
as to what nationality credit should be accorded for
the preponderence of general intelligence, handed down
to the dwellers of the 'Lower End' as a birthright —
this alone was all-sufficient to start the writer to utter
a prayer of thanksgiving for the privilege of seeking
a solution to the much- vexed question, 'How, for so

316 Cherished Memories.

many years, these two irreconcilable sects, the Quak-
ers and Scotch-Irish, were permitted to live in imity
one with the other, with an occasional war of words,
to be followed by tokens of love and friendship, even
to the extent of endorsing each other's sixty-day
notes.

"And now, Menno, if it was your friend's purpose
to conclude this rambling letter an hour ago, it was
not to be interrupted, as I have been since my return
to the country-store, by a visit from Justice Dugan,
twin brother of the 'up' country justice, on whom
you succeeded in passing Brindle, the blasted kicker,
at a ten advance of the price 'bersalt,' to quote one
of your favorite expressions.

''In order that there may be no mistake as to their
filial relationship, it needs only be said that Justice
Dugan of this lower end is a short-set, eccentric per-
sonage, dressed in a suit of thread-worn broadcloth,
with white high-topped beaver to match. His round
face is plump, eyes bright and gray; back a little bent,
voice strained from too frequent use in dealing out
the law to the just and imjust, always with a leaning
toward those best able to pay the costs in such cases
as from time to time had been submitted to his lord-
ship for an unbiased opinion.

"For fully half a century he had been, as he claimed,
the township justice, swaying the destinies of both the
Quakers and Scotch-Irish in their numerous dickers
in a horse-trade. However, his main purpose in reach-
ing the village, as he expressed it, was to meet one
who had crossed the line of demarcation from the

JiLsiice DugaUj Expounder of BlacksUme. 317

homes of the 'Dutch' to that of the chosen people
of God's country, already referred to. Second only
in importance, his purpose now was to learn wherein
the modus operandi of his twin brother's rulings,
as expounder of Blackstone and other commentators,
differed from his own dispensing of the law.

"In accounting for his lameness, which was only
too apparent, as he leaned upon his staff, he inci-
dentally remarked it was the result of being kicked
by an infernal reprobate of an Aldemey, which some
years before had been shipped southward by a Men-
nonite bishop to improve the stock of bovines of the
Lower End. Of course, Menno, as I had already
become too familiar with Brindle's loving traits of
mind and heart, I concluded it would be unwise to
betray 'home secrets.' However, I am happy to say,
Squire Dugan finally succeeded in trading the 'kicker'
off to Robert, a Scotch-Irishman, for a few shares of
his oil-stock, purchased years before.

" In no way to be out-done by his own squire-brother,
in the dealing out of the law to his Dutch constituents,
Mr. Justice Dugan claimed to have married all the
bachelor and maiden ladies within a radius of ^many
square miles; had divorced an equal number, leaving
the various parsons with little more to do than to
attend to their spiritual wants, which were grievous
and many, when their time came for handing in their
checks. In addition to what he had already related.
Justice Dugan claimed to have settled in an amicable
way scores of disputes between the Quakers and
Scotch-Irish over a 'hoss' trade.

318 Cherished Memories.

"What seemed to trouble the Irish justice, and
what he had most to fear in his declining years, was
a sudden down-pour of emigration from the 'up'
country, compelling him to purchase a dictionary of
the German language, all the better to acquaint him-
self with the idiom as spoken by the very few who
had already planted themselves down among the
Quakers and Scotch.

" Following Mason and Dixon's line with my genial
young historian friend, over which, as the learned
justice was wont to declare, the Quakers and Lord
Baltimore had got into quite a little squabble before
the line was permanently established, I found this
section of our great and glorious county a perfect
Paradise of Nature's handicraft, needing only, what
the dwellers' hearts most longed for, an outlet to the
city, apart from the 'Narrow Gauge,' extending
westward from the mother county to the Susque-
hanna. For years this fertile section has remained
almost at a standstill, largely for the want of a direct
line of double-track railway connecting the dwellers
with the city of Lancaster.

"However, bereft of these modem-day means of
inter-communication, they are an intelligent, pro-
gressive people, and what is more, they live on the
best the soil can produce. Without, many of their
homes are of the olden style, surrounded by hedges
of deepest green; within there is all any family could
desire, from the organ or piano, to that of unadorned
splendor, with walls papered and overhung with many
an old portrait of grandparents. This much can

r

Difference Between Nationalities. 319

hardly be said of their out-buildings, many of which
look as if they had been twisted 'round by a western
cyclone, with farming implements lying helter-skelter.
The soil, however, while not as fertile as that of the
valleys beyond the ridges, yields nearly, in bushels
per acre, the equal of that of the most favored of the
other sections of God's country. Then, the difference
in price is such as to attract the attention of farmers
elsewhere.

"As one of the Quakers' peculiarities, they seldom
go borrowing trouble, and little given to worrying
over what the morrow may have in store. Unlike
the Germans, to barter away their last horse or cow
to-day with the hope of bu3ring another the day fol-
lowing, causes no lying awake nights lamenting over
how the crops are to be gathered in. If, perchance, a
mortgage or judgment covers the homestead, what
matters it so long as the interest can be satisfied.
And when it can no longer be met, they let the mort-
gagee do the worrying by taking the plantation off
their hands.

"And now, Menno, having written you freely and
without reserve, it has seemed only too apparent to
my own mind that in one particular there is a wide
line between the Quakers, Scotch-Irish on the one
hand, and the Germans of the 'up' country on the
other. This consists in what constitutes the home-
life of the respective sections. Especially with the
Quakers or Friends is the home-dwelling and its en-
vironment of first consideration. On the other hand,
it has become a tradition with the 'Dutch,' to make

320 Cherished Memories.

the double-decker of first importance in the caring
of the stock.

'* Having said that the Quakers are above the
average in general inteUigence, this can be accounted
for by the number of agriculturists who yearly meet
in what has been designated * Walker's Woods/ where
for hours they put forth such a volume of illuminating
knowledge on the cultivation of tobacco and other
products, as to lead the 'old timer' to imagine his
long years in following the antiquated methods of his
forefathers had been more than wasted. For hours
it was our pleasure to listen to one of the leading paid
agriculturists, only to visit his own farm a short time
later. And oh, what a conglomeration, with fields
overgrown with weeds, fences down here, there and
everywhere!

"How different this farming in theory compared
with that of the 'up' country among the 'Dutch,'
and where there are few traveling delegates for this or
that 'woman's club,' as may be found among the
Quakers, where, in the district schools, the boys and
girls are taught how to let the old folks handle the
plow while they turn school-teachers or temperance
crusaders. And yet, God bless the women of the
Lower End, who allow their lords and masters to
attend to the suckers and cut-worms in the tobacco-
field, while they bask in the sunshine of contentment,
happy within their little homes, where love and peace
reign supreme.

" And now, my dear Mengen, to conclude this ramb-
ling letter, it is the wish of your friend that this missive

\
\

Rdigums Doctrines. 321

may not fall into the hands of Justice Dugan, of the
'cross roads/ and later, into possession of his twin-
brother, and thence under the scrutinizing eyes of
the local historian. For none better than yourself
knows how easily it is to stir up controversies over
disputed points on doctrinal questions, over which the
six nationalities of the city and county have differed
from time immemorial. Again, to attempt to force
the Mennonite religion on the people of the Lower
End, or that of the Quaker or Scotch-Irish doctrines
on the 'Dutch' of the 'up' country, might result in a
calamity not to be viewed with instant and becoming
resignation. Guess, Menno, the good Father knew
what He was about in drawing the line of demarcation
between the dwellers of the upper and lower section
of our great and glorious county.

"What seems so strange is the fact that so few of
the dwellers of the Lower End have ever set foot on
the soil of the upper tier of townships, not that they
are ignorant of our county's history, a goodly number
having visited the far West, with a few visiting a
foreign land. And yet, Mengen, to conclude this
hastily-written letter, I am at this writing only some
forty miles removed from your own 'up' coimtry
homestead."

If thus far the narrative has partaken of the lighter
instead of the more serious of farm-life, no apology
would seem necessary, at least to the pessimistic
tiller who seldom smiles, always ready to go 'roimd
among his neighbors predicting all kind of dire calami-

322 Cherished Memories,

ties likely to overtake farmers before the crops have
been garnered. With the very few, the grumbling
propensity is innate, with others, acquired in coming
in touch with the pessimist. The optimist, the happy,
contented fanner, ready to take the good with the bad,
come in what shape it may, is one of God's noblemen,
full of the milk of human kindness for his fellowman.

If the business man of every city is measured by his
intrinsic worth, rather than by the size of his bank
account, so the farmer is judged and his status deter-
mined. ''What are his domestic habits? Is hepen-
uriously inclined? Does he value the almighty dollar
above all other things material to his welfare?" If
the answer be in the affirmative, his homestead is likely
to be given a wide range. And here it may be said,
as an axiom, that what one farmer doesn't know of
his neighbor's successes or failures isn't likely known
to even the township squire or the bishop, who
usually manages to keep a close watch on every mem-
ber of his flock. And here, it may be further said,
that no people the world over are more religiously
disposed than the common nm of farmers. Their
conceptions of right and wrong may differ from those
of their city cousins, no doubt owing to environment,
but withal, the rural dweller, with all his failures,
stands pre-eminently in the front rank of the world's
struggling masses.

But while there are a goodly number getting as
much pleasure out of country life, in their simpler
modes of living, than those of the cities, there are
BtiU Others residing on many Pennsylvania home-

Mistake to Leave Farm, 323

steads whose one aim and purpose has been the
accumulation of wealth, to be squandered, perchance,
by oflfspring who have never been taught how to
enjoy each blessing as one year follows the other.

That economy is a "jewel," not to be overlooked
with impunity, goes without saying. Money has its
value only in how it can be made to contribute to the
pleasures and happiness of the farm and the commun-
ity at large. It is the home, oftentimes cold and cheer-
less without, that should possess all the comforts of
a city-life within.

A large, commodious double-decker, with its three
spires, painted in variegated colors, not infrequently
stands in striking contrast with the stone or frame,
unpainted dwelling, wherein old and young manage
to exist during the rigor of winter, only slightly better
provided for than the stock, bedded daily in their
snug stalls. It is not unusual, from homes like these,
that the ambitious country boy takes his departure
for the city, where conditions, domestically speaking,
are improved a thousand-fold.

It is poverty that causes so many otherwise intelli-
gent farmers to look with envy upon their distant,
city dwellers, living, as they are prone to believe, on
the fat of the land? Too many of even the wealthiest
of farmers fail to see that their marketable products
are at all times at their own disposal, at prices marked
"prohibitory."

It is this one-sided view of city-life, with well-
paved streets, lighted nightly by electricity, that has
led many a mistaken mother to hurry her boys ofiF

324 Cherished Memories.

from the f ann — ^too poor to maintain them imder like
conditions on the broad acres.

Too poor! What a satyr on country life! Where,
in the broad domain of Lancaster county, with its
millions on interest, are the farmers too poor to con-
tribute their share in the building of good roads?
Too poor to supply their dwellings with a proper
system of heating, and such other sanitary appliances
as every home is entitled to for the preservation of
health, a long and happy life? How many farmers
are too poor to subscribe for the daily newspaper,
and one or two agricultural journals, containing such
suggestions as to repay themselves a thousand times
in a single year?

To drive to the mill or to the city once a week in
attending market, to return, then turn the convey-
ance into a nearby stream, with wheels to the axle
covered with mire; to clean, oil and straighten out the
"raw-hides" for Sabbath-day wear — ^all these many
inconveniences are yearly met and acquiesced in, and
for what? To save a few dollars of road tax. Truly,
the farmers of Pennsylvania have, for nearly two
centuries, been looking through the eyes of their own
narrow prejudices. When will their hour of deliver-
ance come?

CHAPTER XXVII.

Return Tramp Up the Susquehanna — The Haunted

Inn — Closing Thoughts.

DURING repeated visits to this the lower section
of God's country, with the thought of Justice
Dugan's misfortune ever in mind, of his experience
with Brindle, the blasted Aldemey, I naturally kept
on the lookout for the vicious kritter, but to my
discerning eyes, the bovine was nowhere in evidence.
That Brindle had for a time resided on several home-
steads, was only too clear to my comprehension, owing
to a slight impediment, or lameness of certain mem-
bers of this or that family. Occasionally, I was to
learn, that such a quadruped as I described had been
frequently auctioned off by the sales-cryer in giving
her a "goota recommen'," as Menno expressed it.

At last I was to learn from Robert that the old
reprobate had been purchased by one of Lord Balti-
more's descendants, residing on the opposite side of
Mason and Dixon's line, and beyond Justice Dugan's
jurisdiction; all of which was as gratifying as it was
consoling.

Leaving this perplexing question for the local
historian to deny or affirm, "Cherished Memories"
would not be complete without mention of a return-
trip from the homes of the goodly Quakers, where
the lady teachers at all times hold the balance of

325

326 Cherished Memories.

power in the adoption of a series of text-books at a
school-board meeting.

The occasion of my return is distinctly recalled; I
had reached the Port Road at the '' Quarries/' a mile
or two from "Penn Hill," and where I had been
"undone" by one of the women teachers, when, to
my surprise, I was to learn that the road would likely
be tied up for an indefinite time, owing to a land-
slide.

FaUing in with a half dozen or more raftsmen, I
concluded to join them on a tramp, without, for a
moment, considering the distance to be covered during
the long intervening night. Being of a go-as-you-
please turn, the two hours spent with them, at the
Whitteker tavern, placed the writer on terms of the
closest intimacy, at least with the leader, said to have
been one of three well-known Marietta pilots.

Although I had made frequent trips down the Sus-
quehanna, viewing the hills from the window of a car,
to observe the scenery on a tramp was exceeded, as
I was informed, only by sitting on a raft, a pleasure
I had never experienced.

It wasn't long, however, after starting on our
journey, after the sun had gone down beyond the
York hills, that I overheard a spirited conversation,
the question in dispute being whether to put up for
the night at what had for years been known as the
** haunted inn," or to move on to "Bald Friar." At
this moment I should have turned back, except for
the reason that I didn't want to show the white
feather. Being at all times a good whistler of a

A Night WUh the Ghost. 327

certain melody I had learned down in Old Virginia,
this I kept humming as I strolled along in the rear,
with both ears wide open. At last, having overheard
that a murder had been committed in one of the upper
rooms of the haunted inn, my pedals began to show
a tendency of moving backward instead of forward.

Whether these gruesome stories were invented, for my
own special benefit, or as the result of their own
former experiences, I didn't have time to consider,
nor was I at the moment capable of discriminating
between a genuine Susquehanna ghost or one of the
imaginary kind that had disturbed my night's rest
over at Fairview.

At last, with all kinds of visions playing hide-and-
seek with my befuddled brain, I caught sight of a
two-story brick structure to the right of the railway,
and the next moment I had dropped into a vacant
chair of the bar-room, ready to make my escape at
the first of the unearthly sounds falling upon my
ears, and which were as wide open as was the bar,
behind which stood, in the flickering light, as unkempt
a specimen of humanity as the river could well pro-
duce. With both hands riveted to the arms of the
chair, I continued to hold the "fort," as I had previ-
ously the "key" to the Hickory Grove school-house
door.

As it happened, few eyes were closed, except those
of the Pilot's, who took to a bench, as the others
poured in a quantity of apple-jack, as if to ward ofif
the dismal sounds coming from, I knew not where,
nor was I disposed to go in search of the demons. At

328 Cherished Memories,

last, when asked by the wizen-faced landlord if I was
ready to retire, I politely replied that for a night's
lodging in the "old arm chair," I was prepared to pay
in advance. What at the time added to my distrust
was the landlord's saying that he had deserted
the haunted building on a half-dozen previous occa-
sions, only to return. Had I considered for a moment,
I should have known that the fear of ghosts wasn't
bothering his guests half as much as the fear that the
apple-jack might nm short before the twilight ap-
peared.

And now, but for a visit to " Benton," a score years
later, I might still be resting under the delusion that
fate had actually marked this brick structure for all
time unfit for human occupancy.

As the story goes, a certain gentleman of means
and sportsmanlike propensities, concluded to look
the haunted inn over with a view of converting it into
a private club-house. What arrangements he had
made for the caring of the Susquehanna ghosts we
know not. What we do know is, that he made the
purchase with the hobgoblins thrown in without
extra cost.

At last, after nights of patient waiting, Mr. Ghost
was discovered under the roof. And what a friendly
old chap he proved to be! Only another Mr. Squirrel
with his brood, who, in making his way over one of
the rafters, got to playing a kind of "see-saw." As
one end flopped up against a loose shingle, the other
went down, producing a peculiar vibration.

So impressed was the owner with his "rich" find.

Lawson's Rock. 329

as to have a model in miniature made, which rests on
a shelf at ''Femcliff/' as the building is now called
— to-day, one of the most delightful summer re-
treats along the Susquehanna. Thus was another
superstition to vanish.

Leaving this, at the time, haunted inn, we reached
Fite's Eddy early the morning following in time for
a sumptuous breakfast, with our equilibrium restored.

As the fishing season was at its height, with a falling
river, it was easily to be seen that Clark Bostic was
reaping a rich harvest from the scores of anglers from
Lancaster and elsewhere, all scurrying 'round to be
the first to reach ''Lawson's Rock,'' at the time noted
for its big catches. And what old boatman wasn't
willing to remain out all night on this lone sen-
tinel in holding the ''fort" against all intruders?
Standing in the midst of others at low-water-mark,
"Lawson" is yet pointed out by a few of the many
bass-fishermen as the most favored rock on the lower
Susquehanna, with fish stories as plentiful as were
the seven-pounders which always managed to escape.

But now, a good many years later, the Fite's Eddy
inn is no longer in evidence, nor is the register, on
which were inscribed the names of the hundreds who
annually made this retreat their abiding place. What
mattered it if during some nights a few were com-
pelled to double, treble or quadruple up, with others
lying on the floor, with still others, for all we know,
strung up on hooks?

Awakening cherished memories of Fite's Eddy?
It was here that the ''Boss," as we loved to call him,

330 Cherished Memories.

went his way with his trusty boatman, McCune, to
Lawson's.

But we must be moving towards McCall's Ferry,
where, in this year 1910, stands the Power Plant,
destined to obliterate more than one old-time land-
mark. A few miles beyond, we stopped to "water
up" at the famous "spring," around which the Tuc-
quaners gathered for a two-weeks' outing. And what
a galaxy of names a third of a century brings to mind
of this the Tucquaners' Club! Among its membership
were the young and the old, the great majority having
passed to the spirit world. Ah! what a handy, accom-
modating, busy member was "John B.," for years the
club's president!

From the famous spring, one's thoughts turn to the
opposite side, where, for so many years, Urie and his
willing helpmate dealt out the many good things —
chicken and waffles, fit for a king. And as the Tuc-
quaners now meet yearly in this same old inn building,
it is for them, rather than for the writer, to drink of
the water of the "spring," to the memory of their
departed friends. So say they all.

A short distance beyond, a lonely shanty for a
station was reached, but there was no "River-
side" and but few cottages, with no trolley running
to the city of Lancaster as to-day, with the river
converted into a lake, over which the steamboat
plies its way for a dozen miles. Yes, it is at " River-
side" that a meal can be had, with a little something
soothing, six days out of seven.

Reaching Shenk's Ferry, we draw the veil over a

Samuel H. Zahm. 331

sad drowning which befell one of the "cock-fighters"
in crossing from an island during a dark night. Later,
Safe Harbor was reached. And oh! how changed
from the time we made our big catches of catties and
perch, and where the shad and herring industry was
at its height! No canal-boats were to be seen
coming down the Conestoga, as in the days of a third
century before.

On this tramp, tramp, tramp, it was our pleasure to
fall in with our antiquarian friend, Samuel, or "Sam,"
out in search of Indian relics, for which this section of
the county is still noted. Taking final leave of the
rivermen, Sam and I went our way up the Conestoga,
as the nearest and most direct way to the city.

Familiar as he was with our county's history, it
wasn't long until every old landmark was pointed out,
leading me, at least, to realize that if it was one thing
to read history from a book, how much more delightful
to stand on the very soil where, nearly two centuries
before, had been enacted so many scenes of thrilling
interest.

As we continued our stroll over consecrated ground,
what I had previously read of the massacre of the
Indians by the Paxton boys and the Donegal Rangers,
as they were called, seemed like an empty dream by
comparison, bringing one in closer sympathy with the
traveler to the far-oflf Holy Land and other points of
historic interest of centuries ago.

At last, satiated with Indian legendary, the per-
chance, same towering oak was pointed out by my
departed, antiquarian friend "Sammy," where William

332 Cherished Memories.

Penn made his famous treaty with the Susquehamia
red men, who, in the years of the long ago, plied their
frail canoes over and along the river's rocky shores.

Tramping our way along, not far distant from the
Rock Hill hostelry and covered bridge, we reached a
point known, in 1729-30, as Postlewhaite's Inn, wherein
courts of justice were held for a short time, before the
county-seat was removed to the present city of Lan-
caster.

Reaching the old river town of Marietta, at a much
later day, in our young attorney friend, "Bernard
J.'s" automobile, it was our pleasure to meet three
well-known river pilots, Lunn, Fred and John, two
in the borough, the other at Accomac, and where a
supper of chicken and waffles were as delicious as
have so often been the "set-out" at Duffy's Park,
and where, in years gone by, the father of the two
boys made all welcome to this "elysian," with the
proviso that all angling for the gamy bass in the
silvery pools was marked prohibitory.

And now, with the storehouse of memory nearly
exhausted, there still remain a few fond recollections
of this western section of God's country before draw-
ing "Cherished Memories" to a close. Thus, to reach
the Gonewago hills with their boulders, thence through
Bainbridge in Conoy to the Donegals, where "Home
Week" is being celebrated in the old-time village of
Maytown, laid out in 1762, we can, in imagination,
see a gathering of loose heels performing the light
fantastic in the center of the then "homeless town,'!
if such, at the time of which history makes mention,
it could be called.

Electioneering far Her Husband. 333

Taken in charge by our local, historic friend, Hiram
Jacobs, the gates are thrown wide open, as mention
is made of the Pattersons, Galbraiths, Lowreys,
Gamerons, and other early Scotch-Irish settlers, to be
followed by the Swiss Mennonites — ^the Forreys, Gar-
bers, Stricklers, with others too numerous to mention.

Sitting on the historian's porch, in the center of the
village, "Mary Ditcher's" name comes vividly to
mind, as methinks I see her wandering through the
woods, leading a nondescript of a horse, with knitting
in hand, clad in garment chiefly of sheepskin.

Filled to the danger line with historic reminiscences,
it wasn't for Hiram to forego mention of 1732, when
Mrs. Galbraith figured in an election contest, in behalf
of her husband's success as a candidate for the Assem-
bly. And even now, as I sit before the typewriter,
I can see in imagination this courageous home-body
mounted on her favorite mare, Nelly, with spur to
her ankle, with her red cloak fl3dng to the wind, as
away she went scouring the country to win the elec-
tion for her own Andrew, and who, when the votes
were counted, was elected over his competitor, the
invincible Quaker, John Wright. This, among the
last of ''crumbs swept up," presents at least one
striking example of woman's courage and devotion.

And now, with a gentle hint from the editor-in-chief,
I am admonished that, as every story has its be-
ginning, so it must have its ending. Thus, with the
typewriter showing signs of needful repairs, I am
still young, hopeful, if not "red-headed," with a few
strands of "gray among the gold.".

334 Cherished Memories.

Looking back over these many eventful years, I see
the school houses in which I "kept" school, the many
who attended, the friends that I have had, who have
either moved away or passed to the unknown beyond.
Yes, they all come back vividly, knocking at mem-
ory's portals. And as for Mengen, Nancy, the boys
and gentle Beckie, the Mennom'te maid, I do hope she
is living in perfect happiness, with a good husband,
with such a "goot" time as every true woman is en-
titled to, even among the "Dutch" of the "up" coun-
try.

And now, in conclusion, as I raise the imaginary
glass, filled to the brim with brightest hopes and
expectations of a glorious hereafter, I can only drink
to the good health of all "thirty-seveners" and their
families, that they may live long and prosper.

As a final word of adieu to the patient reader: Of
all the cherished memories, the sweetest, deeirest, and
most lasting, are those which linger around a young,
old man's fireside, where, with a kind, loving wife,
three boys and two daughters, he has at all times found
the home to be the fountain from which all blessings
flow.